The White Warg
by FandomsGoneWild
Summary: Ever wonder why there was only one white warg? Here's the answer...it isn't a warg at all. When Hermione becomes an animagus to fight Voldemort, she had no idea that she would be thrown into the Veil for hiding her abilities...but her story is far from over. Thranduil/Hermione. Adopted by PointDextra.
1. Chapter 1

**I don't like Author's Notes anymore.**

**So this goes for the entire story.**

**I don't own the Hobbit, or Harry Potter, and so far, I own no good stories.**

_...Chapter One..._

_._

The woods were silent tonight. Odd. I couldn't help but feel on edge as I searched the gaps in the trees, blinking rainwater out of my eyes. It just felt...odd. Odd and very, _very _wrong. The only noise that fell on my ears was the soft patter of raindrops on the leaves. The night felt..._empty _without Ron snoring away in the tent. I sighed and sank to the ground under a tarp that had been strung between two branches. I sat straight up, wand at the ready, for several moments, and then slumped against the tree behind me. No matter what I read, it seemed that there was only one type of adventure that lived beyond the written word.

The please-let-me-die-now kind that made you start planning the return trip in your sleep.

And I _was _planning the return trip - I had a headache that was getting worse every day, my magic was exhausted from all the spellcasting, and the weather had been dismal for weeks. This quest, or whatever it was, wasn't going well.

Maybe it was this that had me shakily opening a rather thick book, written entirely in Norse runes. The work of translating it lulled my mind into a peaceful, detached state, and I almost smiled as I wrote. Almost. I quickly frowned and leaned forward intently, staring at what I had written without a clue.

"The art of shape-shifting?" I blinked and looked between the book and my own cramped handwriting. Shaking my head, I bent over my paper again. "It...is...not...so..._tricky..._as many would..._believe..."_

My eyebrows drew together. Not tricky? Being an animagus was the _epitome _of difficultly, not to mention _illegal, _currently! However, that was my one great fault, like Harry's hero tendencies, or Ron's temper...or maybe his stomach - I wanted knowledge more than anything else, and once I picked something up, I couldn't put it down.

By the time that Harry woke up to take the second watch, I had covered three entire pages, front and back, with the translations from the Norse book. As I laid down on my cot in the tent, my mind was still buzzing. I must have tossed and turned for almost an hour before I reached into my coat pocket and pulled out the folded papers.

"Lumos!" I squinted and began to read.

_'The art of Shape-Shifting is said to be a complex and difficult magic...to those of narrow mind and dismissal.' _If that wasn't Ron, then I would personally burn theses translations and join a Quidditch team. '_If one sees the world with truly open eyes, then changing forms from man to beast is easier than breathing.' _I blinked. _That _easy? Maybe it was worth it...

When the sun rose above the treetops, I hastily stowed the papers away and stifled a yawn as I walked back out of the tent to let Harry sleep. I promptly fell down beneath the rain-splattered tarp, opened the Norse book, and resumed my work.

.

.

Okay...maybe this time! It had to work! I paused, held my breath, and tried again. Nothing. None of the whirlpool/Apparating feelings the translations had described. I looked down, and I still wore my t-shirt and jeans...no fur, feathers, or even scales in sight. I sighed and ran a hand through my hair.

Oh, _crap!_

How was I going to hide _that _from Harry?!

When I returned to the tent, the hood of my jacket was pulled up. I could feel Harry's gaze on the back of my head, burning as though he could see what I was hiding. It was sunny out, it wasn't cold, and here I was, thinking that I could pass off wearing my hood up! I quickly ducked into the tent and retreated to the bathroom within it.

I stared at myself in the mirror once my hood was down. I looked mostly the same, except for...oh, dear. They didn't go away while I walked.

Wolf ears. I had _wolf ears, pale white _wolf ears, standing up among my hair. One of the risks of being an animagus. Well...at least I hadn't grown a tail, or...crap. I was bound six feet under. As I had stood there, my eyes had turned yellow._ Yellow, _of all eye colors! It couldn't have been something more discreet, like green, or a darker brown, no, it had to be yellow, and now I would be pointed out as an animagus for sure! An unregistered one, no less!

I sighed and picked up the brush that sat on the countertop, briefly disappearing into the kitchen for scissors. I hadn't yet learned how to transfigure my features back to normal, so I quickly brushed my hair through, snipped a bit here and there, tied a good deal of it into a bun on top of my head, effectively hiding my ears, even if they itched. The rest hung in haphazard bangs halfway over my eyes.

I could see the question in Harry's normally I colored eyes, but I ignored it, choosing to return to my practices in the clearing.

.

.

The Battle of Hogwarts. I never thought I would hear that again. But then Kingsley, the new Minister of Magic, turned up on mine and Ron's doorstep, speaking in hushed tones. I sat patiently at the kitchen table all the while, my eyes still covered by my bangs, and my ears carefully folded under my hair.

An hour later, I was being led through the Ministry by a squadron of Aurors, trying not to shake. I was herded onto a lift. A short wait, and then more walking...to the Department of Mysteries. I whined, actually _whined _like a dog - or a wolf - when I began to recognize my surroundings.

The circular room was only inhabited by five people - not counting my half-dozen Aurors - Percy, with his quill at the ready; two Unspeakables that I, of course, didn't recognize; Kingsley, who had Apparated ahead of us; and...Harry. The Boy-Who-Conquered looked cold and detached, and there was a betrayed look in his eyes. My breath quickened when I realized what had happened.

_How could you?!_ I wanted to scream at my friend, scream, yell, run, do _something, _but the instant the words crossed my mind, I felt a spell binding me in place. One of the Unspeakables approached me, pushed aside my bangs, and tutted as she stepped aside to reveal my watering yellow wolf eyes. I whined again, just like my hard-earned animagus form did, and turned my pleading gaze on each person in the room. There was a roaring, thudding sound in my ears that blotted out all other sound - only afterwards did I realize that it was my wolfish heartbeat making itself known.

Kingsley said something, and a moment later, without a trial, the Aurors threw me through the Veil, and I was weightless.


	2. Chapter 2

**Just a reply to a guest review really quick -**

**No, there will not be dragons in this one. I tend to get carried away with dragons and I forget to focus on writing quality.**

_Chapter Two:_

Ow. Ow. Owowowowooowwww...

I thought death was painless? Why does my head hurt? My hands, legs...my entire _body_?! Even my _eyes _hurt, for Merlin's sake! It felt like I had been stabbed, speared, gutted, stuck over a fire, drowned, and frozen all at once! My mind felt like it was stretched until it was a thin covering on the inside of my skull. I groaned in pain, and then groaned again in frustration...and again, this time angrily, and it sounded more like a roar.

My groan wasn't a groan. It was a _growl. _So I continued growling, the sound getting louder and louder until I suddenly surged to my feet with a roar-like bark...and immediately fell onto my hands and knees...or not. I growled once more as I looked down. Paws. Massive, snowy paws tipped with wicked claws. I barked in annoyance and shook myself, reacquainting myself with my animagus form after almost a year of walking on two legs. Despite having just been sold out by my best friend, given up by my boyfriend, and tossed through the Veil, my tail began to wag, and I sniffed the air excitedly, whining like one of those little dogs that throw a fit every time someone opens the door.

There wasn't anyone even remotely close to me. I was surrounded for miles around by trees, and a fair amount of shallow rivers. I barked happily and ran into the woods with reckless abandon, jumping around like a vastly overgrown puppy. I plunged into the first river I came across, yipping in surprise at the cold. I climbed out of the water, yammering all the while until I found a reasonably warm rock. I sank onto it with a grateful sigh.

This could possibly be the best thing to ever happen to me.

.

.

The moon had a red tinge to it that night, and the frosty ground was painted silver by the starlight. I looked up from my meal to gaze as the tainted full moon as it rose. I had been here for almost a year now, and not once had I felt the urge to change back into a human. I was my happiest as the giant, slightly deformed wolf that my Norse translations had taught me to transform into, and there was really no _reason _to switch back to my mutated human form, with its out-of-place, tufted ears and telltale golden eyes.

I would have smiled if I could as I tipped my head back and howled, the rough, grating sound causing as the local fauna to freeze on the spot. I took a deep breath as my howl faded into silence, and then I myself might have turned to stone for how still I stood.

There was someone watching me. A very LARGE someone, actually. I snarled and backed up, trying to show as much of my long teeth as possible. My ears pressed against my head so hard that it hurt, and my eyes were starting to water with how long I had held them open, determined not to be the first to submit. My watcher stepped forward as I moved back, and I felt myself tense as the moonlight lit up their - _his - _features.

Pale skin...brutal scars...a deformed face...a _missing arm_...and he was armed to the teeth. Worse yet, one of those weapons was a net, which was _plenty _large enough to snare, say...a _wolf_!

I yelped and leaped for a tree branch. Stupid, I know; after all, wolves do _not _climb trees. But, as my experience showed, the road less traveled is also the road that no one expects, and I often get my way when I take it. However, before I even touched the bark, a sharp pain dug into my side and I hit the branch so hard that I flipped away from it, my pelt tearing as it dragged along the rough covering. I landed hazardously, half on my side and half on my stomach, and looked down at the black-fletched arrow that stuck out of my snow-white shoulder in shock and confusion _**(**_**Imagine the look on Spirit's face when he's roped, for those of you who watched the movie). **

The deformed creature (he couldn't be human, could he?) advanced on me, and I managed the strength to stagger to my paws and roar/bark as I lurched forward, jaws parted. I had never killed something that walked on two legs, but I could make an exception for this - he was trying to _kill _me, after all!

Something slammed into my side, and I felt a very painful burn on my ribcage as I flew into my favorite river, staining its waters vivid red. It was a struggle to get up again, and even then I was swaying dangerously, my vision fading around the edges. I wasn't aware that I was growling until I felt the vibrations in my chest. I shook myself, dislodging both water and blood from my fur, and put my head down threateningly as I inched around my opponent.

Kill.

_Kill._

_Kill!_

That shook me to the core. I paused. When had this happened? When had I gone from bookworm to bloodthirsty?

My hesitation was my doom...or maybe not. It depends on how you look at it. The creature lunged for me and grabbed the scruff of my neck roughly, pulling me with him as he walked northwards. I stumbled along, my venom back but with no way for me to attack. The creature grinned at me sickly as he threw me onto the ground after walking almost until sunlight.

_"Redhorn," _he growled, and I was shocked to find that I could understand him. _"You are Redhorn." _I snarled shortly in return and dug my claws into the frozen earth. My new "owner" laughed and proceeded to hold me down with one hand while the other fastened a rather warped-looking saddle to my back, constricting my chest and making it impossible to breathe regularly. I let out a breathy growl and kicked at him. Suffice to say, I didn't hit anything but a rock.

I was tethered to a tree for the next day (and no, I did _not _sleep!) and at sundown, my 'owner' returned and we walked again, and this time I was too tired to do otherwise. What shocked me was that, when the sky was stained with the beginning of light, he swung up onto my back and dug his heels into my sides, forcing me to jump forward with a bark. I snarled angrily as I was forced to a trot, my direction controlled by a firm grip on the ruff of fur on my neck.

I was still cursing in wolf as I was directed through a cruel stone gate and into a rugged, dangerous I looking camp, if it could even be called that.

I would later learn that its name was Gundabad.


	3. Chapter 3

**Before I start - thank you so much! I swear that I have never before written a story that so many people like!**

_Chapter Three:_

I snapped viciously at the wolf next to me, snarling with learned anger as it bounded into my path instead of backing away. My torn ears flattened against my skull and I bared my teeth, glaring down at the Moria goblin-mount. They were tiny. Tiny, inbred to the point of stupidity, and very, _very _bold..._too _bold, in my opinion. But this one was even worse than those that I had met on my trips south, especially since it was one of the few that was smart enough to feel a bit of self-entitlement.

It snarled back at me, its brindled fur standing on end as it stood a little taller, reaching my chin as it raised its deformed head. It looked rather like a cheetah, in that respect. I myself growled as I looked down on it. Its rider, a sickly-looking Moria goblin, had awe, fear, and a _tiny, tiny _bit of fear as I towered over his pitiful mix-breed, dark scars from my numerous, bloody fights showing along my flanks. I shook myself, spraying snow that had collected across my back and head onto the Moria whelp. They both flinched slightly at the cold.

I circled around them, and snapped at the warg's heels as I heard an impatient shout in Black Speech from Gundabad, five miles away. Yes, my hearing had gotten _that _good. The warg yelped and started forward, glancing warily back at me as I wove back and forth behind it. It faltered once in the snow (which reached its chest) and I sprang forward, leaving a few new scars on its pelt.

"_Redhorn!" _I perked my ears at Azog's shout and leaped over the Moria mutt, snarling as I drove it towards Gundabad, which I had lost sight of in the driving snow.

I wasn't the same as I had been when I dropped into this land - Middle Earth - and the changes may not have been entirely good. I was a lot meaner than I had been five years previous, and vastly more experienced in the ways of this world. I had been taught the hard way that I was a good deal more powerful than the majority of the creatures in this world - those elves really had made a mistake when they angered Azog into setting me on them - and I _liked _the feeling of power it gave me when I could walk anywhere in or surrounding Gundabad, bark, and everyone - orc and warg - would fall silent and not speak again until my distinctive pelt had disappeared from view. I was the top dog for once in my life.

This ignorant Moria breed had a thing or two to learn when it came to that. It snarled ferally at me as it fought to maintain its northern path, but a new wound on its humped shoulders had it nearly sprinting to the gates of my home. I huffed as I trotted along in its wake, clearing an obvious trail in the snow. Anyone who saw it had better be smart enough not to follow it...or stick around, for that matter. I bent my head against the wind and plowed on until I felt a firm hand grip one of my saddle straps.

"_Good, Redhorn. You are a valuable one." _Azog tossed a slab of meat onto the ground in front of me. Regardless of what it was, I barked and fell on it, ripping it apart and wolfing it down with the enthusiasm of a starving creature. In reality, I actually ate better than the majority of the Gundabad warg population, but I didn't care. I would take what I was handed and be happy...even if it was probably the remains of some unfortunate orc who had crossed my master. I finished it off and licked my chops as I looked up, watching the Moria goblin stutter out a message to the Gundabad guards, which included my master. I had to admit, it came as a delight when I felt Azog settle into my worn leather saddle, shouting in Westron - which I sadly had a poor handle on - to move out and head for Moria.

I threw back my head and howled excitedly, rocking back on my heels. I took off at a gallop, bounding through the snowstorm with a contingent of other wargs - which rather disappointingly included the pair from Moria - running at my heels. I loved this feeling just as much as being in charge - running. When I ran with a pack (always at the head, of course) I felt like I was flying, kicking up dust, snow, mud, or whatever happened to be on the ground at the moment. My paws weren't even close to 'brushing the ground' - in fact, I shoved against the earth so roughly that I left clear prints that my packmates covered with their own - but it was still amazing.

I had no idea that those simple translations would change me and my life to this degree.

I often wondered back on that year between me transforming for the first time and the day I was "executed." It just didn't make _sense! _The worst punishment for an unregistered animagus was a prison sentence in Azkaban. In no way should I have been tossed through the Veil. Unless...

Had Harry asked for it? If so, then that made lots of sense, and then again, none at all. The Ministry had owed the Boy-Who-Lived, so they might have killed me if he made it out that I was _different _than other animagi...had that been the case? What had I done to make Harry think that I was doing something _Dark? _

Of course. I tried to hide it. I tried to hide my eyes and ears, and then stayed away for a _week _when I was still getting a handle on my new form. Maybe...was he jealous? Jealous that I was becoming a shape-shifter, like his father and godfather, and not offering him the same? That almost made sense...

I growled as I was suddenly dragged to a halt. We had arrived at the border of the Gundabad territory. One sharp kick to my side later, I was rocketing across the much rockier terrain on the slopes of the Ettenmoors. If we ran into trolls, then I didn't care. I had found that the stinky creatures were some of the few that could challenge me one-on-one.

.

.

The mines of Moria - specifically the _goblin-inhabited _parts, stank worse than troll bottom. Not that I had any personal experience there...word of mouth (or snout) you know...and the scent of troll was indeed still rank on my pelt, given that I hadn't had the chance to bathe (swim) in quite a while. It had taken four days at full gallop to come to the door - meaning the front door of the area of Moria now known as "Goblin-Town." I had indeed had a scuffle in the Ettenmoors with a rather bad-tempered troll that "Just canna' stand th' stench o' warg," and the creature had put up a fierce fight that left me limping slightly...but not enough to give up my head-of-the-pack position. All of this rather lent to my prideful gait as I rushed through Goblin-Town, straight to the 'throne room.'

I snorted as I saw what measly creature sat on the throne. It wasn't nearly as big as the Great Goblin, but still a formidable size. I stood attentively as Azog swung out of the saddle and approached the new Great Goblin with a mocking bow. I tilted my head. The old one must have been killed somehow.

"A-Azog..." The pale thing stuttered, trying to look superior as it gazed down at my master. "If only you had arrived sooner...the d-dwarves are two days gone..i-i-is your grayed mount getting so on in years th-that it cannot...run?"

Azog growled and approached the throne angrily. "It is twenty leagues as the warg runs from Gundabad to your pitiful town, Goblin! We came with all speed, and _you lost our enemy!" _This last part was shouted in Black Speech and I barked in agreement, following the Pale Orc with a slow, prowling gait. He bared his teeth, looking rather wolfish.

"Where?"

I grunted as Azog leaped back into the saddle and I was spun around. I had to admit - after four days of nonstop running, I wanted to just lay down and sleep. _Twenty leagues as the warg runs_. For those who don't know, leagues are evidently used as a measure of time, too. I happened to know that it was _far _more than twenty leagues from Gundabad, but it was still called twenty!

I growled as the Moria runt-wolf rammed into my side. If this came to a battle with whatever we were hunting, I would personally kill that mutt.


	4. Chapter 4

_Chapter Four:_

Fire. There was fire on the wind. I craned my head around to look at Azog. I barked as quietly as a Gundabad warg possibly could, trying to express my concerns. I might have been a warg now, but I still had the sense to stay away from fire. It hurt me even more now than when I had been human, and I in fact had a scar on the left side of my head where a torch had been flung at me by a human hunter in the middle of the night. Azog, however, had a "what doesn't kill you makes you angrier" attitude, and I grudgingly howled and set off down the hill, leaping over the loose stones. I scoffed inwardly when I heard an answering howl about a mile away. Wild wargs. Pitiful. They were smart, but they didn't particularly _like _any warg that accepted a rider. Even _I _had to respect them - they could withstand just about _anything _and not break.

The other wargs in my pack, not so much. The instant they heard the howls, their heads went down, snarling as they galloped behind me. I huffed a sigh as the Moria runt tried to run past me, yipping and snapping like an overexcited pup. I growled and cut across its path, shoving it into a tailspin as its rider yelled in anger. Just to spite the mutt, I picked up my pace, thundering down the slopes of the Misty Mountains as the howls of wild wargs filled the air, along with...shouts.

I ground to a stop as soon as the fire was in full view, filling my nose with the acrid scent of burning pine. I barked and tossed my head, staggering sideways as the disgusting smell threatened to overcome me. Azog growled in annoyance, but it apparently didn't matter: he leaned forward, putting more pressure on my forepaws, and spoke in Black Speech.

"_Thorin Oakenshield..." _My ears shot up. I had heard that name before...straining my eyes, I saw a dwarf (what else could he be?) sitting on a tree branch just above the reach of the wild wargs...but not those of Gundabad. I crouched and waited for the order as my master spoke, but no subtle tap on my side came. I jumped a little, waiting, a and I instead received a sharp kick.

"_You smell of fear...I remember your grandfather _reeked _of it!" _ I growled back at him. _That _was taking it a bit too far. I received yet another kick, and I snapped at him, ears flat. Yeah...I was going to regret that later. At the moment, I felt the well-known signal to move - a sharp forward tug on my shoulder-fur. I growled as I walked forward, weaving back and forth on exhausted legs. Frankly, I wasn't surprised when the other orcs started laughing. Their leader must have looked like a fool, with his sleep-deprived mount dead on her feet.

I shook my head as I heard the crunch of heavy boots hitting the bark of one of the flaming trees. There were always those who didn't understand the order in a fight - Oakenshield must have been one of them. I leaped forward as I was kicked again - _this was why I wasn't a fan of orcish war _- and I snarled as Azog slung his weight around, driving his mace forward...into the chest of the dark-haired dwarf.

"_Thorin!" _I looked up. Thirteen other dwarves were perched in the remaining tree, along with a..._what __**is **__that?!_

The grey-robed figure was mostly obscured by smoke, but he was very clearly the source of all the fire, as he was _still _throwing flaming cones of death at the wargs below. I growled at him, and then barked loudly at the pain in my flank.

For the first time in five years, Azog had _hit _me. I held back a whimper as I shifted to stare down at him, and instead chose to snarl. Bad choice.

_"Redhorn! I will deal with you later!" _ I growled back, trying to look intimidating as blood flowed down my torn pelt. That would be a new scar. Little did I know that that scar was the start of the biggest change of my life.

.

.

I was most certainly suffering my master's wrath. My white pelt might have been russet, for how much blood was on it, and pain was my entire world. I shook uncontrollably as I saw traces of my fur on Azog's mace, and closed my eyes as he raised his arm again - my flank already burned with the ferocity of fire, my left forepaw was mangled, and I would be surprised if I ever saw out of my right eye again. But the blow never came. I looked cautiously up at the Pale Orc, and saw uncontrollable anger, permanently etched on his face.

_"Redhorn," _He growled, throwing the mace onto the ground as he stalked back towards the camp, "_you have been a good mount. I have entrusted my life to you many times, but if you slip one more time," _here he turned to look me dead in the eyes, amber meeting black. "_One more time, and I shall be looking for a new mount."_

I grunted as I hauled myself to my paws. My mangled forepaw touched the ground awkwardly, but it didn't hurt as much as I would have, given that it was rather cool outside for the last day of summer. I gratefully slunk into the river that ran beside our camp. The water ran red with warg-blood, and I whined as I wondered how much more of it I could lose before I just fell down and couldn't get back up. I felt like I was made of ice as I crawled out of the water and claimed my place on the edge of the warg pack.

And again with the wondering about the Veil issue. What was with that Unspeakable? There had been something vastly wrong there: I was almost certain that I had felt something brush against my mind...had she been a Legilimens? If so, then why had she used her talents on me, when I was about to die? Did it have something to do with...this? All the changes in my mind, the liking for power and strength?

At least that was still the same. I could still think the same when I had a problem. It certainly helped me keep my head.

My dreams that day - since orcs hated sunlight, we made camp at dawn - were hopelessly muddled.

_"Hermione!" A stag stood in the shade of the woods, staring at me with emerald eyes. I felt freer than I had in years as I started towards it._

_"Redhorn!" I turned around, flinching as I saw the carnage behind me. The grass was stained green, with all races lying dead in the red aftermath of a ferocious battle. And at the center stood Azog, holding my saddle instead of his mace. I looked at my back. It was unscarred, and I was unsaddled for the first time in quite a while. The stag stepped forward._

_"Hermione!"_

_"Redhorn!"_

_I looked back and forth between them, whining. They were both watching me expectantly, waiting for me to...choose. It had been a long time since I had a choice. My heart sped up as I took in this unexpected turn of events, and I slowly turned to the stag in the forest. It jumped a little and retreated farther into the shade, calling my human name. It disappeared the instant I was in the trees, as well. I whimpered and sped up, galloping at full speed through the forest. I lost a piece of my thoughts with each bound, and I was little more than a thoughtless wolf when I saw the bear-like creature staring at me with sad, but still rather hopeful gray eyes. The trees blurred and faded until I was standing on the deck of a swaying barge, with the achingly familiar black dog before me._

_"Pup...what happened to you..."_

My eyes snapped open. What was happening to me?!

**I'm getting close to deciding on a pairing. So far, it's either going to be Thranduil/Hermione, or something else if someone suggests it.**


	5. Chapter 5

**Oh...my...AHHHHH! THIS IS AMAZING! Thank you all so, ****_so, _****_so _****much! I never even ****_dreamed _****that thus story would get so much attention! Again, thank you! The doesn't even begin to cover how amazed I am, but still, ****_thank you!_**

_Chapter Five:_

_Harry's PoV_

"Hello, Potter."

I jumped and hastily shoved the papers I was reading under a file. I straightened my glasses as I looked up, trying to be professional. I sighed when I saw who stood there.

"Hello, Neville. Not to be rude, but...why are you here?" The former Gryffindor scowled and stood a little taller. The six years following the Battle of Hogwarts had made him bolder, for certain, and he apparently had no qualms of staring down the Head Aurors, as he didn't budge from his position in the doorway.

"I know what you did. I know what you did, and I know what happened to Hermione." His voice was calm, but I had been his friend only a few years before. I could hear the undercurrents of rage that so often made their way into our conversations these days. I frowned and leaned back in my chair, examining the Herbology professor. He certainly was shook up, but he had been claiming to know what had happened to his best friend ever since 'the incident' as the Wizarding World was calling it. This time, however, something was different. This time, he was so angry that I slowly inched my hand towards the wand holster on my forearm.

"And what would that be, Longbottom? How did you come across it this time? A prophecy from Trelawney?" I laughed slightly in an attempt to lighten my old friend's mood, but he instead advanced on me, crossing the room in three long strides. I slid my wand out of the holster with a small _click, _and in response, Neville pulled his own from his back pocket. He aimed it at my chest.

"Luna told me. She works in the Department of Mysteries now, you know. And one day, she was looking through some files that a new experiment had spilled from a cabinet, and she found something; a paper. An _execution order, _no less! And for who?!" He leaned across the desk and almost spat the name in my face. "_Hermione Granger. _Crime, _Dark Magic! _It said she was in league with the Death Eaters, and that she was practicing _illegal _magic! I don't believe it! Not a word of it! And who filed the report?! _Auror in Training, Harry Potter! _Why?! She was your _friend, _Harry! Your friend!"

I stood up at the wizard's challenge, holding my own wand at the ready. "I think it's time you left, Neville." He glowered at me.

"This isn't over, _Potter_. Far from it!" With that, he spun around and marched out of my office, shouting angrily over his shoulder the whole way. I jumped when a spell shattered the shelf to my right.

I sank back into my chair with a resigned sigh. This outburst had indeed been spot-on. I didn't like it, but I had actually told the current Head Aurors, who told Percy, who told Kingsley, that Hermione was doing something that seemed...off. I had just been jealous at first, thinking that she was being unfair, seeing as she was becoming an animagus without telling me when I had, in fact, kept Sirius' and Rita Skeeter's own shapeshifting abilities a secret from everyone. Then, when I received the letter from the DoM, I was shocked, and then I truly began to hate her. She was practicing a rare and unstable type of ancient magic that would slowly but surely change her mind until she was little more than the beast she held the form of. The eyes were the first sign. With normal animagi, the eyes never changed color. Hermione's had turned the golden-amber color characteristic of wolves.

I don't really remember the rest of the letter, but let's just say that there's a reason that the Norse seemed to be having trouble with deformed dragons.

With every sentence, I felt more and more hatred for my former friend. I didn't understand how much until I read the bottom of the page with a triumphant smile.

_The protocol for such a breach of natural magic is death._

I hadn't even flinched when they tossed my fellow Gryffindor through the Veil about a week later. Unfortunately, a lot of hatred was going around for whoever had turned her in, and a few people had worked through the facts and put me at the top of their suspect list. Now, almost five years later, my only friend was Ron, who had once again shown his true colors when he stepped aside and let the Aurors take his girlfriend away without a second thought or glance. Even the quiet, easygoing wizards and witches hated my guts and didn't hesitate to show it. The few that had been easily angered in Hogwarts were even more so now, and it was a rare occasion when I looked through the Daily Prophet and found some off-to-the -side comment about "Potters' loyalty running on fumes."

I didn't feel remorse, though. They would have all thanked me if they knew what would have happened otherwise.

.

.

_Hermione's PoV_

Ow.

Ow.

Ow.

I _officially _hated bounty hunting. The rocks stung my ripped paws, and jolts ran up my side whenever I used my injured foot. It was getting harder to maintain the lead now, too. While I had taken most of the beatings on this trip - minus Sceadu, who had died when we were attacked by the eagles - the others of my pack were mostly unharmed, with only a few scrapes and bruises. I tried to push the pain to the back of my mind, but the instant I began running like normal, I landed awkwardly on my mangled leg, the old wound on my shoulder ripped open, and my mind was fills with pain. Grudging, very grudgingly, I slowed and ran at the middle of the pack instead, letting Barad take the lead. His blue-gray coat wasn't nearly as obvious in the pre-dawn light.

Azog wasn't the least bit happy with this new development. He snarled and kicked at my sides, but instead of speeding to overcome Barad, I ground to a stop and just stood there, panting and yelping quietly as the hundred or so rocks embedded in my paws made themselves known. With a growl, he dismounted and shouted to the rest of the pack.

_"We make camp! Redhorn will not run!" _ I couldn't find it in me to growl or snarl in any way at the blame. Instead, I flopped down onto the rocks, sides heaving with exhaustion. A long, low whine rose from my throat, and for the first time in many, many years, I felt like I was about to cry. I laid my head on the ground and clenched my eyes shut as I jumped with a hiccup. I yelped loudly as a boot collided with my snout. Azog sneered at me.

I turned away and fell asleep.

It seemed like no time at all when I was awakened by a heavy weight settling into my saddle. My head came up, and I whined again as I noted the Pale Orc once again sitting on my back. I really had had enough of this. I wasn't a _horse, _for Merlin's sake! Despite my mind's protests, my feet moved and pushed me upright. I growled in frustration as I was kicked to a gallop once again.

Did these orcs think about nothing other than speed?!

Another day of riding at breakneck speed. Oh joy. My head bobber up and down as I ran, my hind paws stretched out a little farther than was needed, and I was fairly sure that I had an orc-sized dent in my back. My only relief was that it was raining. The cool water soothed the saddle-sores on my back and woke me up enough to keep pace with the enormous warg sprinting in front of me.

How hadn't I noticed it before? It was just about the size of a mountain!

My paws pounded firmly against the soft ground as I ran, soon drawing level with the strange black warg. He really was an ugly brute, with bulldog-like features, but with twice the drool and fangs as long as a grown man's forearm. Slight exaggeration, of course. I quickly passed the male warg and bounded on, turning whenever I felt a tug on my fur. The cool, rainy breeze blew into my face and lessened the pain from my kick the previous morning. I sighed and leaned forward into it, still thundering along at an incredible pace.

I was so enveloped in the pleasure of running in the rainstorm, even in my less-than-perfect state, that I ground to a rather unexpected halt when the sky was suddenly blotted out, and only fat, heavy drops of water hit my flank from time to time. The large warg behind me crashed into me, sending us both, riders and all, into a pond at the base of a tree. I took a moment to revel in the cold water, letting it refresh me, before climbing out and shaking myself firmly, barking as Azog wobbled precariously in the saddle.

What can I say? Water is awesome, _especially _when there's enough to swim in!

Mr. Big-and-Bad apparently didn't think so, however. He was shaking like a leaf, with his dark fur hanging around him in sheets of waterlogged fluff - yeah, I said fluff! - and his pale eyes were wide and traumatized.

"_Hey, lighten up!" _I was happy to finally have an opportunity to speak wolfish, since the Gundabad breeds aren't talkative, and the Moria breeds are just plain dumb. _"It's just a little water!"_

_"Leave me be, Half-Breed!" _I recoiled from the unexpected outburst and walked away into the trees at Azog's annoyed bidding. Some wargs - most of them, actually - weren't very big on conversation _at all. _They just wanted to kill things.

I couldn't help but rock back on my hind paws as we finally saw our destination, after almost another entire day of maneuvering through the dense forests.

Big-and-Bad's rider grinned in a feral way. _"Dol Guldur."_


	6. Chapter 6

_Chapter Six:_

_Mystery PoV (six years ago)_

My mask itched. I rubbed in vain at the polished leather, but I was rewarded with nothing but a green-stained hand. I paced back and forth, twitching every time the tattooed snake on my arm moved. My hair fell into my eyes and I pushed it back; my shoes began to slip off, and I tugged them back on. I looked quickly around the room, and then back at the floor, then the ceiling, then around the room again. An hour. I had been doing this for a complete _hour. _My feet ached. My temples throbbed. I bunched the fabric of my shirt in my hands, and then released it.

I rubbed in vain at my masked face again. That itch was really starting to bother me. I was so preoccupied with trying to tug it off that I didn't realize that I had company before I heard a humorless chuckle behind me. I jumped, shoved the mask back in place, and spun around. A man, wearing a mask like mine, only black, stood in the doorway, smiling grimly. I stood a little taller and tried to look unconcerned.

"Is it done, Fifty-Three?" My employer's voice was rough with disuse and rasped slightly. I cleared my throat.

"Yes. I planted the thoughts needed, and Potter will file a report tomorrow, when the Head Auror walks past his cubicle."

"And the rest of them?"

"I affected who I could find, milord." Oh, I hated that phrase. I was a pureblood! I shouldn't have to call anyone '_milord!' _Oh, I was going to be happy - elated, even - when this assignment was over. I had been promised freedom from my employer's influence once he had what he wanted... "The Weasley family was almost too easy. They all harbor suspicions now, as well as several random wizards of high status!"

"Did you use the proper power? Enough to make the girl's closest relations turn on her? It is all useless if you simply planted the seed of doubt, which would be so easily uprooted in a single sentence." The man clasped his hands behind his back and looked down at me. I puffed up indignantly.

"I used enough! An overdose, even! Given time, Potter would join us wholeheartedly, never mind getting rid of Granger. No one I cursed will mourn, and those who I didn't get a shot at are too obscure to do much." I stared levelly at my employer, brown eyes meeting gray. I tilted my head. This man looked strange...and I felt like he shouldn't even be here...

"Of course. So I am to simply forget that you claimed the same when attempting to turn Granger herself to our cause? That she would run to us within the week, with a boost to her already warped mind from the Norse book? I remember when you brought it up - that it belonged to one of your cousins, and it had made several Dark wizards powerful, including Grindelwald - and that planting it in Granger's supplies would almost surely grant us the upper hand. And what now? She has her new form! She has shifted! But what of her allegiances? Why isn't she here in this room? Now your 'weapon' must be destroyed, else she turn on us when we reveal ourselves!"

I had flinched with every new charge piled against me. When my employer fell into silence, so did I. I could think of no safe way to respond.

"So," I looked up, not expecting the genuine tiredness in his voice. "I have decided that, once Granger is dead, _you _will take her place."

"I will taker her pla- _what?!" _I was panicking as I looked around, as if expecting someone to pop out and shout, "April Fool!" But there was only the black-masked man, who still frowned at me.

"You will become a shifter, as well, and be glad of it. Otherwise, it would be only too easy to..._dispose..._of you. Understand?"

I felt weak in the knees. I wasn't getting my freedom after all. Even ten years from now, I would be employed in this man's service.

I held my head up - despite my internal panic - and nodded determinedly.

.

.

_Hermione's PoV (Present Day)_

Dol Guldur was a depressing scene. Everything was dark and foreboding, from the chipped statues to the dead trees surrounding it, and the occupants were far from pleasant. The orcs had laughed at my unnaturally pristine coat (what?! I still liked to keep it clean) when they saw me lounging beside a statue just outside the gates, and the wargs...ugh. Don't even get me started. To sum it all up, they were the most inappropriate breed I had encountered so far, and I would have enjoyed personally ripping them limb from limb.

I was currently rest in beside a mostly-dried pond, nestled amongst the dried, crackling water plants. I lay as still as I could when I hears footsteps drawing closer. It had better not be another orcling. They had already dumped three buckets of mud on me, and I was perfectly willing to run them all the way back into their mothers' arms the next time they even _thought _about it. I jumped when I felt a pressure on my side...and then relaxed a bit. It wasn't mud. It didn't seep through my fur and chill my hide. I opened my eyes, and sure enough, Azog stood over me, still scowling.

"_The High Fells," _he commanded, hauling me to my feet and - _Merlin's beard! - _removing my saddle. _"Bring me the wizard with the gray hat."_

I growled and started forward, limping heavily with each step. _Redhorn, do this, Redhorn, do that! _I was sick and tired of this! Why was _I _always the one sent away?

_Because you still had to be _smart, a voice in my head mocked. _You just had to stay the same when you could have become a normal warg!_

I sighed inwardly. That snarky little voice was right. I really was too smart...for a warg, anyway.

.

**Okay...sorry for the abrupt ending, there. I mostly wrote this bit of a chapter to explain some things, since I ****_really _****wanted to address the Harry issue.**


	7. Chapter 7

**I am ****_blown away _****by all of this! Just going to say - I'm definitely going with Hermione/Thranduil in this story.**

_Chapter Seven:_

I barked excitedly as the High Fells - an ancient burial ground which is for some obscure reason on the side of a _mountain - _finally showed themselves. I had since left the forest behind (and I was glad of it!) and the wide open fields seemed much more exciting. In fact, I was holding the urge to just frolic around like a puppy, and not the most feared warg on the face of Middle Earth. It was autumn now - the heavy scent of the fall was in the air, and it was blessedly easy to catch a meal, and they were fat, too. Especially the rabbits. I felt kind of bad when I ate one and discovered a harness on it. I just ate some little kid's pet!

I made a point of ignoring the local fauna after that, focusing instead on the flora. The greenery was sparse here, with scraggly, little trees and low-lying bushes. It was mostly rocks, in fact, and I was quickly getting annoyed with it. If rocks were living creatures that could be killed, then I would be a professional assassin! The sharp gray shards dragged through my pelt, cutting my skin and adding to my injuries. Really, I just wished that I wasn't Azog's errand-wolf when it came to search-and-capture missions.

I nearly howled with frustration when I came to the foot of the Fells. They were a vertical climb, dangit! And there were no 'but's about me climbing it - my quarry was a good half-mile up, and still going! Resigning myself to the humiliation of trying to climb the Fells faster than an old man, I huffed and leaped at the stone wall. I growled as my claws seemed to find purchase on the crumbling stone...and then I lost traction. I did the splits with my front legs, scrabbling at the rocks for a moment before I fell over backwards and did a flip.

Those rabbits had better not be laughing...

I could have bitten myself when I looked to my left. Of course there was a narrow, dangerous staircase leading up to the peak of the High Fells! And I was a freaking gigantic wolf who would probably die today!

I started up the stairs cautiously, each step rigid and calculated. I gulped and closed my eyes as I wobbled on a loose step. Forget pride! I was now fifty feet in the air without a wand, a parachute, or even the vaguest knowledge of how to get down!

That's actually an interesting fact right there. Wargs can go upstairs, but not downstairs. Like cows, except with the intention of killing somebody once they figured out how to get down.

It began snowing a quarter-mile up. I snarled at the spinning white flakes as I slipped on an icy stair, knocking my jaw on a rock. The Fells were _officially _one of my most-hated destinations in Middle Earth. And what was worse, the old man was still hundreds of feet above me, and he had stepped into a cave! Probably to avoid the snow!

I wanted to zone out _so badly _then, and wake up at the top of the staircase, but when I started to slip away, I literally almost _slipped away, _off of my perch and into the howling wind. So I continued on, dragging my self up to the wizard with all the grace of a dying hippo.

I was panting heavily when I finally stood on shaking legs, just outside the wizard's cave. The sun was setting red on the horizon, and I couldn't help but howl as loudly as I could. _See, world?! Hermione Granger just climbed Middle Earth's Everest!_

I stopped mid-howl and stared at the horizon. Hermione Granger? I hadn't called myself by that name in years... Oh, well. I could work on that later.

I turned to the tomb-entrance, sniffing the air cautiously, and stooped slightly to fit under the roof. It was cramped in here, and it smelled of death...and power. I shook myself as a whine rose in my throat. I couldn't revert to a puppy now. I had to get the wizard.

Of course, my roaring, frustrated bark might have given away my position. The tunnel continued into a crack! And not one of those, "I can see, but I can't get through" cracks, either! It was a, "Hey, is that a crack?! Man, you'd have to be really skinny to get through!" kind of crack. I sniffed around it for a moment, and then scratched uselessly at the floor. No luck. I scented the air and followed the wizardy smell around...hey...wait a minute! The wizard hadn't gone through the -

A gnarled staff swung out of nowhere and I jumped back with a startled yelp as it glanced off of my flank, leaving behind a sharp sting. I spun around, ears down and tail rigid behind me, to face the gray-cloaked wizard. He had been watching me from the shadows all along, and I hadn't noticed it!

He really did look old, even up close. In fact, I was starting to think he looked a bit like he belonged the Dumbledore fam- OW!

I whimpered as all the fur on the left side of my body fell off in a wave of ashes. What was that for?! Now I looked like a Thanksgiving turkey! I growled and lurched forward, seizing the staff and throwing it across the cave floor. The wizard's face paled when it skittered dangerously close to the edge of the landing outside. I snarled and inched closer to him, speaking in wolfish.

_"You will come with me. You will not fight me. Understand, Wizard?" _I wasn't expecting a reply - most people immediately caved when they heard the foul, garbled language that consisted purely of grunts, growls, and fearsome noises only made by wargs - but I certainly got one.

"White Warg of Gundabad," he said, sounding firm but frightened. "Release me this instant! I have a job to do, and it does not include tagging along with an abomination of a wolf! Now, tell me - will you let me leave _willingly, _or will I bring Beorn back not only his horse, but the skin of a snowy warg?"

I stopped, looking at him warily, and then barked a laugh. _"Do not lie, Wizard. You have no power without your staff!"_

The wizard froze far longer than I had, staring at me in amazement. I stiffened when I felt something connect with my mind for a fraction of a second.

"You are no warg. Not in the least." The wizard's voice was little more than a whisper, and he was staring at me as though I was the most perplexing thing he'd ever seen. I whined as the realization hit me like a ton of bricks.

_You have your wish, Redhorn. Show that you are like him, and you will never be an orc-mount again. You will never feel the cruel blows of an angry master...you will be free, like you were that first year..._

I stepped forward a bit, still cautious. "_You will not hurt me?"_

"Not...not if you have good intentions..." The wizard managed to stutter out. My stomach rolled in apprehension. What would happen if I shifted now? I hadn't done it since I was executed. Would I even be _able _to shift?

I forced these thoughts away. I _would _be able to. I had to be!

The old man's face was comedy gold as my horse-sized body morphed before his eyes, and my hair once again fell around my _human _face. I could still feel my ears - the same as always, on top of my head and just like those of a wolf - and my vision was sharper than strictly necessary, but otherwise...I was the same. As in, _I still looked like I just graduated from Hogwarts _the same.

"Hermione Granger, sir," I said breathlessly, stalking forward to shake the wizard's hand. I felt back a shout when I saw how bruised my skin was. "Unregistered animagus. You are...?"

**Again, an abrupt end. Sorry about that. My brain can't think of proper chapter endings right now.**

**Maybe next time!**


	8. Chapter 8

**Bwahahaha...plot twist time!**

_Chapter Seven:_

"I'm Hermione Granger." I held out my hand expectantly, watching the wizard carefully. That was a talent I learned over the years, I suppose. Act friendly, introduce yourself, and watch them for any signs of hostility. I moved my hand slightly and raised my eyebrows. The wizard made no move to take it, and in fact looked rather shocked. I let my hand drop to my side and stalked forward, placing a hand on the old man's forehead. Did he have a fever? Who couldn't understand English? He blinked rapidly and backed away rather quickly, leaving me in a rather idiotic pose. I started towards him again, and he moved with me - _away _from me, that is. I blinked and jumped forward and to the side, stumbling as I tried to mimic the movements of a warg on two legs. The wizard edged backwards with surprising speed for an old man, and I had him - he had backed into a corner of the cave that I could easily block from the entrance.

There was fear in the man's eyes as I advanced on him. I could understand why - I must've been a frightening figure, as I'd just spent over half a decade as an instinct-ruled wolf. I stopped three feet from him and spoke in wolfish. The rough sounds grated against my throat, but the wizard seemed to recognize them.

_"My name is _Hermione Granger. _Why are you scared of me?"_

"You...Beorn is the only skin-changer alive," the wizard stated, now more confused than frightened. "Your very existence is impossible! What demon are you, that you are both a warg and a beautiful woman? To trick others into trusting you, only to rip out their throats at a later date?"

For a moment my eyes widened, my ears standing up. _What?! _How could I even pass as_ pretty_ when I was literally bruised from head to toe, and my hair was matted with blood?! Of course, a growl made itself known when he accused me. I felt a prickling on the back of my neck, but paid it no heed. I decided to play by ear on this one.

"_Excuse _me?! I am an _animagus, _for your information! And just because I _happen _to be a wolf doesn't mean that I'm a...a demon!" O...kay... Maybe that wasn't the best approach. I should have remembered that all male wizards are practically hardwired to rise to a challenge...or a vaguely insulting comment.

"She-Warg..."

"Hermione. Hermione Jean Granger."

"You...lie!" The wizard was flustered again. I simply raised my eyebrows and turned to walk away.

"Wait!"

The wizard had recovered, and was advancing on me quickly. "You cannot leave! You are a danger to all in Middle Earth! How do I know that you will not return to your master?"

I took a deep breath. Did I want to leave Azog. _Yes, _the traces of my old, human self whispered, shattered by years of cruelty and servitude in Gundabad, _yes, you must. _I opened my mouth to reply.

_No! How do you know the world will not turn on you? You have been betrayed once - why not again? You are _safe _with Azog! _the part of me that was fully and unbrokenly warg was raging inside of me, roaring at the wizard in front of me. I swallowed before answering. It wasn't a particularly smart answer, either.

I told him everything.

.

.

"We must hurry! All haste, Miss Granger!" I jumped onto a rock, grinding to a stop...and immediately falling flat on my bottom, my bare feet having found no purchase on the rain-slick stone. Gandalf was nearly sprint in away from me, towards...oh, dear. I slid off of the rock and jogged to catch up with him.

"Um...Gandalf? I hate to tell you this, but...I kind of..."

I didn't have the time to finish talking. Gandalf stormed back out of the copse of trees and brandished his staff at me angrily. Apparently, he was no longer afraid of threatening me.

"You! You have frightened my horse into bolting, with your scent! I hope you enjoy the walk to Ere-" his sentence cut off with a shocked yell as I transformed not three feet away from him. I barked a laugh, shaking my head and I ran a few steps, stopping beside a rock.

If he acted like this the entire trip to Erebor, then I would have to sit down and laugh for a while.

I craned my head around as Gandalf nearly fell to the ground. He scowled at me. I shrugged and continued on.

_"Are you ready for some speed, Wizard?" _I jumped lightly over a creek, and the old man bobbed up and down on my back. He muttered something along the lines of, "Might as well get it over with," and I howled - again, both frightening and annoying Gandalf - before surging forward, bounding across the dark, rocky fields with new freedom, seeing as my saddle was still in Dol Guldur. The pain in my paws faded as I cut directly across a heap of stones, heaving myself into the air while trying to balance my passenger as well as I could. It started raining again as night fell on the border of Mirkwood, and I only sped up from there.

"Elves!" I stopped so suddenly as Gandalf's cry that he literally flew up onto my neck, pressing my head to the ground. I stood on my hind legs, shaking him back to his original seat, before kneeling down as I realized that he meant to dismount. I rolled my shoulders as I stood again, and then barked - yelled - whatever - as magic infused my blood. Gandalf was pointing his staff towards me, the stone on the top glowing like a silver-blue star as faint streams of magic reached out towards me, forcing me to shift forms. I felt as clumsy as ever once I was on my two human legs, and I yelped rather wolfishly as Gandalf quickly took something from one of his robe pockets, wrapping it around my head as a blindfold. A moment later, I felt the weight of a cloak settle on my shoulders, and the hood was pulled over my ears.

"You will not speak," Gandalf whispered anxiously, gently taking my arm and leading me forward in a winding path, around the stones I had seen before I was blindfolded. "You will pretend to be blind and mute for as long as we are in the company of others."

"Why?" I stumbled as my foot hit a rock and I fell into Gandalf. He cursed and fought to stand me upright again.

"Because where we are going, it is only too easy to become the target of suspicions! Not to mention that you have the eyes and ears of the White Warg!"

I peeled my lips back in response, and I received a sharp tap to the head. I cleared my throat and straightened up with confidence. Not even a loud breath escaped me as I closed my eyes and leaned away slightly, closing my mouth. Gandalf chuckled somewhere to my left, and I whirled around in surprise, reaching instinctively to my forearm, where I usually stowed my wand. Unfortunately, I lost it going through the Veil, and I grasped blindly at the ruined sleeve of my shirt.

"Good, good...you might just pull this off, if you keep up." I nodded, smiling, and allowed the gray-robed wizard to take my arm again, leading me on towards the elves. Already I could hear them - their weapons hissed as they were drawn, their owners alarmed by the as-of-yet unknown noise coming their way; horses snorted and tossed their heads at the scent of a dangerous predator; a strong voice called out in a language that I didn't recognize. And then, when bushes no longer brushed my legs...

"_Mithrandir! Mae Govannen, mellon nin!" _I tilted my head, trying to memorize the phrase. I smiled as my mind fell into more familiar paths. _What language is it? Have I heard it before? Can I learn it? What if-_

"Thranduil." Gandalf greeted, letting go of my arm. I swiveled my ears carefully under the hood of Gandalf's cloak, and I heard the aforementioned wizard trekking across the pebbly ground, towards a elf that was mounted on a...horse? I couldn't be sure - even with my muted sense of smell, I could pick up something distinctly _un-_equine that originated from the mount. "Tell me, why are you leaving the forest?"

"A raven," the detached male voice answered easily. I scoffed from where I stood. Almost immediately, I felt the weight of a half dozen gazes on me. "Who, may I ask, is your blindfolded friend?"

"Ah..." Gandalf hesitated for a split second. "This is Hermione. I was recently in the area of the High Fells on Saruman's orders, and I found her wandering around, the only survivor of a brutal orc attack. She is both blind and speechless, even without covered eyes."

Nice job, Gandalf. Obliterate my ability to speak - because of my English, which was a strange anomaly, **(See A/N at bottom of chapter) **and then my sight, to hide my eyes, and an orc attack to obliterate any thoughts about my nonexistent family living on. The conversation continued on around me, and I bit back a scream as I was suddenly scooped up. The furry hide of a massive deer-like creature scraped against my raw, bloody hands, and the arms of an elf steadied me on either side.

"King Thranduil-" _King?! _"I am sure that room could be found on a horse. You don't have to-"

"There are no more horses without burdens, Mithrandir. Yours was the only that could be spared."

Gandalf's protests died into mumbled complaints as the deer's gait picked up, although it was certainly wary of my animal scent.

.

**A/N: I realized that the English/Westron thing needed a bit of explanation - it actually ties into the rest of the story very nicely. Basically, Hermione is a bit like Gandalf, with the ability to understand ****_almost _****any language - with race-particular languages excepted, like Sindarin and Khuzdûl. But, she cannot speak those languages. Even though she was given certain abilities when she fell through the Veil, she ****_didn't _****gain others. Okay?**


	9. Chapter 9

_Chapter Nine:_

I couldn't see it, but I could _hear _it: the crashing of water against the rocky shore, the slap of booted feet against the soggy ground, and...shouts? I resisted the urge to tilt my ears forward to catch the exact words as the deer-creature I was on stopped suddenly. More footsteps made themselves known as several people - with much heavier gaits than the elves - came rushing towards the small army. I closed my eyes behind the blindfold and took a deep breath, dragging in the surrounding scents.

It was raining, for one. As if that wasn't already obvious, from my soaked state and the cold rivers running down my arms. For another, something was burning - burning or smoking, either one. The acrid scent of singed wood hung in the air, and I coughed slightly. There was a lake nearby - again, obvious. The wind didn't carry salt or the cries of seagulls, so we were still inland. My brow furrowed as I caught a fully unfamiliar scent. It was almost like metal, but not. It was fire, and decay, and metal, rolled into one. But, nearest and most comforting, and then again threatening, was a scent I had learned by heart in the first days of my shifting. Human.

A half-dozen men were struggling through the boggy ground to reach the elves, tripping often and calling out desperately. I heard the squelching tramp of horses' hooves, and heat rolled off of Gandalf's exhausted mount as it stood next to King Thranduil's deer.

"What happened?!" The wizard demanded, the leather of his saddle creaking as he swung off of his horse, fuming with anger. "Why do the Men of Esgaroth huddle on the lakeshore among burnt driftwood?" This tone of voice suited him much better. I could hear him march furiously to the men, staff digging into the mud with each stride.

There were several muttered replies. I was certain I caught the word "dragon" more than once, and then Gandalf's voice rose to a shout.

"Confound those dwarves!" He stormed back to his horse, climbing onto its back with a slight struggle. "Went on...woke the dragon..._confound them!"_ I turned towards him, a question on my lips, and then I remembered that I was supposed to be mute. I rolled my eyes behind the blindfold as the deer shifted under me.

"So it has come to pass indeed, then," Thranduil said grimly, his breath rush in past my cheek. "Thorin Oakenshield and his Company have awoken the dragon, and the Lake-Men have paid the price of their foolishness. I assume the dwarves are dead, then?"

Thorin Oakenshield? The dwarf that challenged Azog? I strained to hear Gandalf's muttered answer as he began to ride away.

"No, not quite. Not quite yet...the King Under the Moutain lives yet..."

I sagged back in tiredness as the deer moved forward, and then sat bolt upright. I couldn't do that. This...Thranduil person was a king - I couldn't be using him as a backrest. He chuckled, and I blushed. I should have just gotten on the horse with Gandalf... I stiffened as I felt Thranduil touch my arm.

"Sleep, young one. You need it." I cautiously leaned back again, and despite my embarrassment, I soon dropped off into sleep, the smell of the burnt lake lingering in my nose.

.

I was warm. A blanket was draped over me when I awoke on the cot, the tarp of a tent stretched above me. I groaned as a stray raindrop splashed onto my forehead, soaking into my blindfold. Something was wrapped around my head, and it seemed to be attempting to weigh my head to the pillow as I sat up. A thick, earthy smell permeated the air, and I breathed it in greedily; for so long, I had only had the dank, decaying scent of orcs and orc settlements. Even the High Fells and Mirkwood had smelled...off. I raised a hand to my head - the wrappings I had felt were bandages, and my ears were crushed underneath it. I scratched in vain at them, and a whine rose from my throat.

"Ah...you're awake, at last." I spun around, rather noisily knocking a...something off of a table, as Gandalf's voice sounded in the corner of the tent I was in. It could only be a tent - the feel of the air was cramped, and none too open. The wizard stood and approached me. I could feel his gaze boring into me as he stopped roughly three feet away.

"Why..." I started to speak, but Gandalf's voice turned harsh again.

"Hush! We are no longer in the wild - we are in a camp of Men and Elves, and you mustn't speak! By now, the rumor is spreading that a blind mute arrived with the elves - no one of importance, but still injured. Injured and unable to see anyone." A hand rested on my forearm. "There are things you must know now, Miss Granger. Important things that will hopefully keep you in one piece in days to come."

_"Like what?" _the quiet wolfish clearly caught Gandalf off guard, as he stepped back with a squelch.

"This may have been the wrong place to bring you, Miss Granger. Maybe I should have sought Radaghast before riding to the Lonely Mountain, and left you with him...but no matter. What is done is done, and now you must stay safe - as safe as possible. War is coming." I started at that. My eyes were wide behind the blindfold.

"Thranduil sent a messenger to Mirkwood as soon as his elves were settled. He intended for them to bring back healers, and supplies. Instead...instead, they brought those things, and soldiers...and the news of an army of orcs from the Misty Mountains. Azog is among them - their leader, in fact. He is none too happy that you abandoned him, as should be expected. Does he...?"

"_Does he know of my abilities? No, he does not. I feel that, in that case, I would not be here today." _My throat was aching with the effort of producing the canine sounds now. I hoped that the conversation would soon be over.

"Good...that is a relief. He will most likely not recognize you, as long as you remain hidden. How are you liking your new disguise?"

"_It itches. My ears hurt." _I sniffed lightly, and flinched at the strong smell that rose from my skin. "_And can I bathe?"_

"Well, I am quite sorry, Miss Granger, but I have made it out that you have a head wound. The bandages were the only way to hide your skin-changing nature from your new neighbors...who are _exceptionally _sneaky! They have taken quite the interest in you - I have caught several children in here already, waiting for the Seer to wake up!...But of course you may take a bath. There is a pond not far from here, and, with some luck, soap may be provided by one of the elves."

"_Oka...wait! Did you say Seer?!" _My ears strained against the bandages, and the scent of the pale cloth over my eyes seemed suddenly stifling, even if it smelled like the wild. I tugged uncomfortably at it, and it came loose just enough for me to see Gandalf. He looked vaguely offended.

"Well, I had to give _some _explanation more than that you were orphaned in an orcish raid! The ability to see the future - or at least vaguely sense it - would rather explain your mysterious survival when all the able-bodied warriors were struck down!" I sighed and replaced my blindfold.

"Alright. I just want a bath." My stomach growled like my wolf form. "And some food, possibly."

A hand took my arm as gently as if I was made of glass. The cloth of the tent entrance rustled, and cold wind blasted into my face. I shuddered and leaned into Gandalf, resenting the fact that I no longer had fur to protect me from the harsh Middle Earth winters. I closed my eyes, and I could distinctly feel the presence of more than two dozen people crowding together fir warmth, more than a few of their gazes trained on me. I hugged myself with my free arm, shivering as I felt snowflakes melt against my skin. Where was that cloak now?!

Eventually, the crowded human camp was left behind, replaced by stunted little trees with elvish tents nestled between them. The curiosity in the air was so strong that I could almost taste it as I breathed. I shook again and attempted to bury myself in my fellow wizard's robes. He muttered in a mixture of fondness and annoyance, and I leaned away again, carefully not to make a sound as the cold surrounded me like the army that was on its way.

My eyes shot open when my toes touched the freezing water of a pond. I cried out and backed away, dragging Gandalf with me. The wizard muttered angrily as he stumbled over a rock.

"Show some sense! It is only luck that we left the camps behind... Now, hurry up! I will be waiting for you to call. Quietly!" Gandalf hurriedly ducked into the surrounding forest, leaving me to my icy bath.

I sighed and untied my blindfold, dropping it onto a rock. There was so little left of my shirt that, as I slipped it off, it fell apart in my hands. The original color of the fabric was unclear, and I tossed it over a tree branch with a sigh. My pants weren't in much better shape, ripping clean in half as I stepped out of them. I braced myself as I came to the edge of the pond, dipping one foot in it. I shook with cold and stepped back, leaning forward with determination written on my face.

The water wasn't as cold as I'd expected as I dived in. Nevertheless, I swam to the surface as quickly as possible and hauled myself onto a rock that poked out of the deep water. A good deal of dirt and blood had fallen from my skin the instant I broke the surface of the pond, and now I just had about half of my original job ahead of me.

Unfortunately, six years without a true bath leaves a _huge _mark. It must've been two whole hours before I staggered onto the shore, numb with cold.

_"Gandalf!" _the wolfish call growled on the wind, and I yelped as I immediately heard him traipsing through the undergrowth. _"No! I have no clothes!"_

"Oh. Well, this could certainly be a problem." The wizard's voice was muted by the trees between us, but he was clearly close enough for discomfort - a moment later, a solid wall of magically-influenced air pushed into me and I fell back into the pond.

"Stay in the water!" Gandalf commanded me as he strode in a wide circle around the pond's clearing, never once glancing my way. I huffed and glided deeper into the freezing cold. It felt strange, to be in the water as a human. Like I wouldn't be able to stay balanced and I would drown...

I heard the footsteps a moment too late.

"Gah!"

_"Ah!" _I spun around and then ducked under the water, hovering with my eyes barely above the surface, my bedraggled hair falling over them just enough to hide their color. An elf stood on the bank, facing away from me and muttering rapid apologies. He - for he was clearly male, given that he had already removed his shirt to bathe - had long, black hair, and was clearly not a warrior - he didn't carry weapons around with him, like the others.

"Hello?" I clapped a hand over my mouth as soon as I spoke. I was supposed to be mute! I cursed vehemently, and then cursed myself again for cursing out loud. In the end, I just kicked myself underwater and ducked down to hide again. The elf had turned around somewhat shyly, and I was very happy to note that the water was very murky at the moment.

"You...speak?" He asked, his cheeks turning a vivid red as he spoke. I myself blushed and sank deeper. I nodded slightly, a million profanities running through my head.

"But I thought you were mute!" The elf turned an even deeper red. "I-I'm sorry if I offended, Miss, so sorry..."

I took a deep breath and raised my chin above the water. "It...it's all right. And...I'm sorry for intruding on your bath time. I just..."

"Just...what?" The elf was still embarrassed, and if I was reading him correctly, he wanted to run all the way back to Mirkwood and hide in a tree. I grimaced.

"I don't...just don't...haveanyclothes! There!" I must have looked like a very bruised tomato as I sank underwater again. Where was Gandalf, already...

"What? You...you spoke very fast, milady," the elf stammered, looking at the clouds.

I gulped. "I...don't have any clothes. They sort of...fell apart..." The elf looked fit to just melt into a puddle of shame as he caught sight of my discarded earth clothes.

"Oh...um...should I...go and get...some...?" The elf was about to faint - I could smell it.

"No, no, someone's...already helping..." I shyly lowered my eyes to the water. They shot up, however, when I heard footsteps in the shallows. The elf was standing knee deep in the water, holding out his dark green tunic out with his face turned away.

"Here...you are no elf. You will freeze without some sort of covering. I will...I will return to bathe when you are gone." He started to hurry back to the elvish camp.

"Wait!" He stopped and peeked over his shoulder at me.

"Yes, milady?"

"What is your name?"

"B-Belegeron...may I ask y-yours, milady?" The poor thing. He was getting more ashamed by the second. I smiled a bit at him.

"Hermione. And...one thing. You...you musn't tell anyone that I spoke to you. It is a secret."

Belegeron smiled back faintly, still blushing heavily. "Yes, milady. A secret."

When he entered the trees, I crawled out of the water and took his tunic from where he had left it. It was still warm, and I gladly slipped it on over my head. Belegeron was quite a bit taller than me, and the tunic reached well to my knees. I tied it shut like a bath robe and sat down, tying the blindfold on again in case any other elves came around.

Gandalf returned shortly afterwards, hauling an armful if dresses that various women had apparently lent me. He spluttered indignantly when he saw my new attire, and I crossed my ankles as I stared at him - or at least where I thought he was. It was hard to tell with my sight blocked and my ears bound. After a moment, he sighed.

"You have made a friend, I suppose?" Disapproval was clear in his tone, but I nodded.

"Yes. And don't go shout at him for being rude! He was actually quite polite...and shy. Like a child." Gandalf huffed, and then a dress fell into my lap.

"Get dressed. I must return to the camp shortly."

I shrugged and got up, stumbling along until I felt leaves on all sides. "Can you see me?"

"No! And if I could, I wouldn't look!" His voice was irate, and I sighed as I untied the tunic and slipped it off, quickly replacing it with a heavy, floor-length gown as the cold wind blew through the trees. The leaves crunched under my numb feet as I walked back.

Gandalf took my arm yet again, and I leaned into him for additional warmth as snow began to fall once more. Belegeron's tunic hung over my arm as we passed through the elvish camp, and I heard multiple chuckles - I suppose they could be described as _knowing _chuckles - as the elves saw it. I wondered if Belegeron was somewhere among them, trying to allay his embarrassment.

.

**Thank you all for sticking with this so far! I'm trying to make the chapters longer. And Belegeron's such a sweetie :). I'm going to enjoy writing him.**

**PS, this is still Thranduil/Hermione.**


	10. Chapter 10

**Hello! Before I start the actual chapter, I just wanted to say one thing - if you are a fan of Lord of the Rings, a semi-fan of Twilight, and a lover of sarcasm, you ****_have _****to check out, "The Story I Never Wanted". I didn't write it, but it is ****_hilarious, _****and still manages to be an actual story!**

_Chapter Ten:_

I always imagined what I would be like when I was older. Most of the time, before the war, I thought that I would be an Auror, and Unspeakable, or even the Minister of Magic. The probability of being a teacher entered my mind once or twice. I even dreamed about being a magical ambassador to the muggles! But this wasn't at all what I expected. In no way had I ever imagined myself sopping wet, in another world, wearing a borrowed dress and carrying an elf's tunic, while eavesdropping on a meeting of an Elf-King, a wizard, a dwarf, and a human. In fact, if I had _seen _someone eavesdropping on said meeting, I would have turned them in. But now, I wasn't just Hermione Granger, the smartest witch of her age. I was also Redhorn the White Warg of Gundabad, criminal, illegal animagus, and most recently, the mysterious Seer, who couldn't see or speak but kept company with elves and wizards.

The mud squelched next to me, and a now-familiar face, framed with dark hair, hovered next to me. In the mere week since our first, awkward meeting, Belegeron and I had become the best of friends. And of course, this somehow led to him being essential to my spying. I had to admit, fewer people even spared me a glance as I sat next to King Thranduil's tent with the scribe beside me, the two of us drawing in the mud as we kept our ears perked for information. Of course, mine were hindered in their ability, seeing as they were _still _under the bandages.

Belegeron stiffened and tapped my ankle with the toe of his boot - our signal. I scooted closer to him and plastered a silly smile on my face as he whispered what he'd heard in my ear, drawing more than a few wondering glances. No sooner than he had finished speaking, the tent flap opened and everyone who wasn't Thranduil walked out. I struggled to keep the schoolgirl grin on my face as Gandalf's eyes fell on me. He shook his head and shot a warning glance at Belegeron, who had wrapped an arm around my shoulders. I could read in his eyes what he was saying: _She is mortal. Do not fall for her._

I couldn't help but laugh quietly at that. Belegeron, for all his shyness, was a wonderful strategist - the reason for his being sent to Mirkwood from Lothlorien to battle the spiders. When he had first shared his plan with me as he showed me the ruins of Dale - it was useless to keep up the pretense of being mute and blind, now - I had shamelessly told him he was insane and walked off. However, when I next saw him, it hadn't seemed so impossible - the few times Gandalf had allowed me to take off my bandages, I had caught the far-off gossiping of elves - they were quite convinced that Belegeron was in love with me. So, I had agreed.

Hence the grinning and whispering when the meeting ended and its participants cast looks our way that were both wary and warm. The instant they were out of sight, we sprang apart and climbed to our feet, minds buzzing.

The meeting had been about _me, _of all things! There were so many other topics that were much more important than a supposedly blind girl, but instead, the first sentence had been, "And what to do about the Seer?" I had exchanged a shocked glance with Belegeron. Shouldn't they be talking about, I don't know, the _impending battle _against _orcs and goblins?! _Instead, they had talked for a half hour on whether or not I should be left at camp, or if I should be taken somewhere safe. After that, my ears had ached to much to listen, and Belegeron supplied me with the places they might send me and the other women and children, and the routes we might go by. Mostly elven settlements - the Elvenking's halls, a few outlying elven villages, Beorn's house (the dwarf, Daín, had even suggested asking Thorin to shelter us during the battle in the Lonely Mountain) - but in the end the answer had been unanimous: everyone unable to fight would be left at the camp, hidden in muddied tents and among the trees.

I hurried along in Belegeron's wake, stumbling occasionally in the thick mud. I sneezed violently - and repeatedly - as I ran, shaking my head and drawing much attention from those who weren't being gathered to go to the Mountain. The wind blew into my face and seemed to push me back as I struggled up the icy hill that Belegeron and I often spent our days on, now.

My blindfold had been removed. That was an interesting fact in itself. Instead, I was wearing a thin fabric bandage that I could just barely see through. My eyes ached after I stared though them for a while, but it was worth it. At least I didn't have to be guided around the camp by either Belegeron or Gandalf.

I plopped down on a rock at the crest of the hill, unwinding my see through blindfold as I did. I blinked against the stinging light of the cold, overcast day and turned to Belegeron. He barely flinched at my unnatural eyes now.

"What will you do? I mean, when the battle comes?" I brushed my snow-laden hair out of my eyes and gazed imploringly at my friend. He shrugged - a gesture he had picked up from me, apparently, as elves didn't shrug.

"I suppose I will fight. I know enough about daggers to wield one. What of you? Will you follow their wishes?" I gulped. The very image of Belegeron fighting hand-to-hand with orcs, maybe even Azog, filled me with dread. However...the thought of him fighting orcs while the White Warg protected him...

"I will fight...but not in this form." I grinned as Belegeron blanched.

"You...you will fight as the White Warg?!" His voice was incredulous. "But...Azog..."

"Will be no match for me." I finished. "He only beat me last time because I tried to climb a tree to get away. Besides...you'll need someone to watch your back." I gave him what I hoped was a supportive look. He smiled shakily.

"Then I'll need some practice. Just in case I forget what you look like!" I laughed out loud and put a hand on the scribe's shoulder.

"Bear this in mind, Belegeron, son of Thanguron - there is only one White Warg, and she is very easy to tell apart from the rest."

.

.

I felt the same rush of power as before when I let my bones morph and twist into those of a wolf, snowy fur sprouting from my skin. Belegeron stood several feet away, watching me with wide eyes. While I had told him of my second form - and consequently my past with the Defiler - he had never seen it for himself. I allowed myself a little pride as he walked around me cautiously, running a hand through my white shoulder fur. His eyes widened as he caught sight of the vicious scars on my flanks, and I couldn't help but rumble a chuckle, craning my head around to watch him.

"You really are the White Warg." It was a dead serious statement, and I backed up to look at him. His dark brown eyes were wide with astonishment, and I carefully lowered my head to his level. He smiled with some relief as he saw me in the warg's golden irises.

Training with Belegeron was different from the bloody "play-fights" of wargs. He used a long tree branch instead of his sword, and the worst penalty for a slip was a stinging pelt. In return, I kept from crushing him with my wolf form's weight, but I definitely shook him up a little. It was a constant struggle, but not the harsh, life or death kind I was accustomed to. Belegeron would tap the crown of my head, and I would head-butt him across the clearing. I took a blow to the flank, he would go flying again. After I had thrown him across the snowy ground for the umpteenth time, he finally asked the one question I hadn't thought of.

"Do all wargs rely so heavily on their heads in battle? I am certain that several of the wounds in Lothlorien were from warg bites..."

I shifted seamlessly into my human form and replaced my bandages - both on my head and over my eyes - as my friend handed them to me. "No, not really. Moria wargs depend on their speed, rather than strength, to bring something down. My breed, the Gundabad wargs, _do _use head-butts often, but their main defense is their teeth. Never get in a position where they could get their jaws around you."

"Noted," Belegeron said, twitching nervously. I laughed and turned towards the camp.

"Come! They will be looking for us soon."

**Just a heads-up: the BoFA is next chapter, and after that, the real plot starts. Along with the pairing!**


	11. Chapter 11

_Chapter Eleven:_

I was already in my wolf form as dawn broke over the hills. I watched it solemnly, with Belegeron seated on my back. He looked a bit unnerved by being on a warg - and a warg notorious for killing things, no less - but still wore a determined mask as he hefted a sword in one hand. I was relishing this feeling - it was like a more peaceful, less painful version of the mornings I had waited on a battle with Azog. My head came up as a war-horn sounded in the camp.

"Are you prepared, Hermione?" Belegeron's voice was surprisingly strong and warrior-like for a scribe. I craned my head around to look him in the eyes, nodding slowly. The elf gulped and wound his free hand in my shoulder fur.

"An army of two," he whispered. My ears perked and I tilted my head. "They'll sing songs about it, you know. An elf-scribe and a shape shifting warg, riding into battle together against the orcs of Gundabad, Moria, and Dol Guldur put together...do you think it will be a sad song?"

I tossed my head and jumped slightly, bouncing my friend on my back. He laughed nervously, his grip on my fur loosening. "I suppose that you are right. We mustn't lose hope before we even draw blood!"

My ears tilted forward at the sound of the orcish army marching over the hills. They were little more than a smudge at this point, but if I knew anything about orcs, they would be here before the hour was out. Belegeron leaned forward as well, his elven eyesight just as strong as my wolfish. His hands bunched in my fur as he saw the army that approached us.

"Aye..." He whispered, fear evident in his voice. "We mustn't lose hope, _mellon nin. _When the minstrels sing of this battle, they will sing of the victory of the White Warg and Belegeron the Scribe!" He was shaking now, clearly trying to convince himself that he would see Lothlorien again.

I whined and shuffled my feet uncomfortably, thinking of what would happen to me after this. I couldn't very well go back to the orcs - this decision would forever brand me as a traitor - but after I revealed myself, none of the other races would accept me, either. Who in their right mind would be a warg's neighbor, after all? Maybe I could live in the High Fells. There was certainly enough prey to sustain me, and I could easily stay hidden in the overgrown bushes. But what about Belegeron? What would happen to him once the other elves, or even - Merlin forbid - Thranduil saw him? What was the penalty for illegal alliances? Suddenly, the scribe's light weight seemed to press down on my back like a three-hundred pound weight.

Would I be responsible for his death, whether by orc, warg, or kin?

My head shot up as a howl rent the air, accompanied by the thundering of numerous paws against the slushy ground; almost every warg in the approaching army had broken loose and was charging the ranks of elves, men, and dwarves that had formed on the field. Even from where I stood, I could see several wargs from Gundabad, their strangely long legs (compared to the others, of course) flashing underneath them. The Moria breed was a bit slower, with their awkwardly small heads lowered to the ground as they thundered on on their short legs. There were even the Dol Guldur wolves I had briefly been introduced to before I had been assigned to catch Gandalf. They were massive, more bearlike and sturdy than any other creature I'd seen so far. My ears flattened against my head and I growled, Belegeron jumping at the sudden vibration.

With the warg riders going as fast as they were, the battle would begin much earlier than expected. As in, I needed to get moving in about thirty seconds. Belegeron seemed to guess this - his grip on my fur tightened, and he laid nearly flat on my back, holding his sword at the ready. My lips peeled back from my teeth as the distance between us and the forces of the Misty Mountains.

Just before the opposing armies clashed, I reared into my hind legs and let out a roaring bark, nearly throwing Belegeron to the ground. I shoved off down the slope, slamming my paws against the ground with each bound. My head went down, my body stretched, and I narrowed my gaze to the nearest warg. It was a large one, undoubtedly from Dol Guldur, but I was large, too.

Belegeron pulled himself forward on my back, hugging my flanks with his knees. I caught the silvery flash of his sword in my peripheral vision, and I opened my jaws. My legs were nearly flying out from under me as I galloped to meet my once-friends.

"Wait!" Belegeron's shout somehow reached me through my battle lust. I nearly flipped over as I ground my feet into the dirt, and I snarled as I turned to look at my friend.

"The Mountain!" He pointed with his sword to the solitary peak at the far side of the lake. "The dwarves there don't know about any of this!"

I looked to the Mountain. For the first time in this world, I was truly myself, and panic seized my heart as I thought of the dwarves that lived there being caught unawares. I barked and leaped forward, my course changed. With my back turned, I didn't see an unfamiliar brown warg with a white hind leg stop and look after me, a very familiar orc seated on its back.

_"Redhorn."_

_._

_._

The pebbles on the slopes of the Lonely Mountain hurt my paws as I galloped towards the gates. There was no one on the battlements, as Belegeron pointed out. I stumbled to a stop just below them.

"Hail, Thorin, son of Thrain, son of Thror, King Under the Mountain!" I added a short bark to the scribe's words, wagging my tail in an effort to remain friendly...ish. Footsteps rang out on the stone battlements, and the dark-haired dwarf I'd seen in the Misty Mountains looked down at us. He reeled back and sneered, distaste clear in his tone when he spoke.

"What abomination is this? What elf dares to approach Erebor on a warg?" Belegeron shifted uncomfortably on my back, but his voice was strong as he replied.

"Belegeron, son of Thanguron, King Thorin, a scribe of Lothlorien, and my companion is Hermione, daughter of none, the White Warg, who has turned on her kind." I snarled quietly, shaking myself. Sure, I had never told Belegeron who my parents were, but daughter of none? That was taking it a bit too far.

"Hermione, stop it! I'm trying to talk..." Belegeron kicked my side lightly and I straightened up, staring up at Thorin. "We have come with grave news! An army advances on your Mountain, and-"

"Do you think I do not know this?!" Thorin's voice was angry, very angry, and I bared my teeth in response. "I have known for longer than you, elf, and yet you ride to my gates, thinking that you bring news! Go back to your forest, Son of Thanguron, and leave the business of dwarves to the hands of dwarves!"

I barked as he started to turn away, and he whirled around, facing me. In a swift movement, Belegeron was shaken off, and I closed my eyes as my bone structure changed. When I reopened them, my human voice rang clearly up the gates.

"So you will turn away useful allies? I would have gladly charged into battle and taken my chances with the first wave of wargs, but Belegeron remembered that you were here alone, with how many? How many that only two stand with you now, as you speak with us?" I smirked at the dwarf king's dumbstruck expression. Belegeron was gaping at me as I turned to him.

"If you agree, Belegeron, I think we should join your kin." He nodded quickly, and I started to shift. I was nearly on four legs when a shout came from the battlements.

"Wait!" Thorin was grudging still standing there, with one of his companions, an old dwarf with a long, white beard beside him. He lifted his head in acknowledgement. "It would be an...honor...to fight alongside you, Hermione, daughter of none, and...Belegeron, son of Thanguron. Open the gates!"

I stood tall as a human again and led the way forward, Belegeron trailing behind me, as the gates slowly creaked open. My ears swiveled around to take in the sounds that were now revealed to me. The steady roar of a massive fire was in the air, with the clash of metal on metal bouncing off of the walls. My friend crowded closer to me, covering his ears. Elven hearing must have been better than a warg's, then.

The white haired dwarf appeared a moment later, smiling gratefully and bowing slightly. "Welcome, friends, to Erebor!"

.

**Yes, I know I promised the BoFA in this chapter, but my brain isn't up for writing a battle scene right now. Instead...this happened.**


	12. Chapter 12

**I am truly speechless. I just now realized that this story has over ****_one-hundred followers. _****Free elven swords for everyone! XD**

_Chapter Twelve:_

Belegeron was still jittery around the dwarves as the battle came closer to the mountain. His pale, wary face was framed in a helm that one of the dwarves - of which there were thirteen - had dug up in the treasury. He looked strangely princely in the armor they had given him, and I found myself often forgetting that he was my friend, and a scribe. They had even given him a better sword, as his old one was salvaged from the wreckage of Lake-Town. The blade was long and heavy, the hilt set with jewels, but he wielded it well, for someone who had never been in a real fight before. He spent most of his time sticking close to me, helping me find my own set of armor.

I already had saddle, no matter how much my friend had protested. The straps were a lot more comfortable than those of my orcish saddle, and I was breathing easily. I tilted my head as Belegeron unearthed a broad, curved metal plate from the heaps of unfinished projects beside an abandoned forge.

"It's a wolf helm," he explained, fitting it to my forehead. It fit perfectly. "At least, it could be. It just needs something to hold on to... Aha!" He took a long, dusty leather strap that had been hanging from a decaying rack. He held it under my head and touched each end to the plate on my head. "How do I..."

He yelled and jumped back, looking panicked. I soon discovered why - my magic had fused the strap to my makeshift helm, and with absolutely no warning. I shook myself in dismissal - I had had my share of accidental magic in this world - and trotted away, sniffing for something - anything - that could be uses as armor.

I froze as a heavy weight settled over my shoulders. I twisted around to see that a dwarf had snuck up on me, and was currently arranging two tied-together shields across my shoulders, in a semblance of shoulder plates. I shifted uneasily as he buckled the shields in place with a long rope. The dwarf smiled confidently at me.

"It's better than nothing, right?" I nodded, grunting my thanks.

"Hermione! They're almost here! Are you ready?" Belegeron stumbled over the stones on the ground and crashed into me, his armor jangling as he staggered upright. My head shot up, eyes wide, and I immediately dashed down the corridor, slipping my head through what must have been the remains of a dwarven chain-mail shirt. Right now, it was a perfect neck guard.

I kneeled down so that the elf-scribe could climb into my saddle. The leather creaked and swayed, but thankfully didn't loosen. I raised my head, letting Belegeron wind his hands in the thick white fur on my neck, and hurried to the gates, where the dwarves were waiting for us. They cast uneasy glances at me as I stalked around their group, waiting for the gates to open and unleash us on the orcs. My ears flattened angrily at the familiar roaring of my old master.

The rattle of chains sounded in my ears as one of the dwarves began pulling on them to drag open the gates. The hiss of metal on metal came from behind me - Belegeron had drawn his sword and was leaning forward intently. The gates slowly inched open, and I swayed backwards, head down and teeth bared. The instant there was a enough room for a warg...

"The red dawn!" Thorin yelled from beside me.

"_The red dawn!" _I roared and leaped forward, slipping through the gates and galloping into the fray beyond.

.

.

I was slowly reverting back into the feral warg that I had been before Gandalf discovered me...only this time, my undying hatred was towards the orcs and wargs. My muzzle was dripping with black blood as Belegeron gave his umpteenth battle cry and swung his sword, cutting down a Moria goblin. I snarled and fell on its dumb mount, burying my teeth into its jugular. More blood spurted from the bite wound, and I jerked back, ripping the beast's throat open. It staggered a few feet and collapsed, flopping down onto the snowy ground. My head swung back and forth, jaws gaping as a large ring formed around Belegeron and myself. The dead bodies of orcs, goblins, and wargs alike laid on the ground around us.

I didn't even let Belegeron help with the next challenger - I surged forward the instant the Gundabad warg stepped too close, and it fell in a mass of mutilated, blood-soaked black fur. The ring grew larger still, and I paced in a circle, head down but always watching the battle around me.

I froze, stumbling to a stop, as a familiar voice spoke behind me...in Black Speech.

_"Redhorn." _fury lit up my eyes and I slowly turned around, a growl rising in my throat. Azog had found a new mount, a black monster with a white crescent over its eye, and it had just as bad a temper as any warg I'd ever met. My old master raised his mace and spurred his mount towards me. It stopped when it was nose-to-nose with me, golden eyes staring into gray. I snarled as it inched closer, almost towering over me. This was no Gundabad warg - it was from Dol Guldur.

"Elf," Azog snarled, drawing back his arm in preparation to strike, "you made a mistake in taking my mount."

As the Pale Orc's mace swung forward, something in me snapped. I didn't even get into a less vulnerable position first - I sprang forward, roaring as I shoved the black warg backwards. I snapped angrily at it, struggling to reach its throat. Instead, my jaws latched around its snout and I shook it viciously, snarling as I heard the bones in it begin to crack. Sword and mace clashed above my head, Belegeron crying out as he was thrown back by the force of the blow. The black warg tried to howl through my death grip, but I twisted my head hard and its jaws shattered.

It kicked at me, its pain lending it strength, and I went flying, a sickening crunch coming from my left side. My eyes widened as I realized that it wasn't _me _that the crunching came from.

_Belegeron! _the elf was pale as I twisted to look at him. His leg was horribly crushed-looking, and bent awkwardly just above the knee. I whined in concern, and a bit of panic, as he slumped forward.

Something solid crashed into my flank, shunting me back. The black warg let out a mangled bark through his crushed snout, backing up to ram his head into me again. I roared in fury and rose onto my hind legs, crashing down on the beast as he charged at me. A sharp _snap! _met me, and the orc-mount went limp. Azog struggled to dismount before I rounded on him. Belegeron was most definitely unconscious by now.

"_We have had this fight once before, Redhorn. And once again, I - will - win!" _ I roared and surged forward, ducking my head and throwing the Defiler ten feet in the air. He landed awkwardly on one leg, and I growled, advancing on him. He struggled to stand, but my head-butt had done one thing right - his leg was broken.

I placed one paw on his chest, pressing down on it. I loomed over my former master, the limp weight of the elf-scribe hanging in my saddle. I parted my jaws, growling as I fitted them over the orc's head, and then...

It was over. The ground was muddy with black blood, and it squelched under my paws. The fighting around me had stopped completely, and I raised my head proudly, a waterfall of my victim's blood trickling from my jaws. The wargs and orcs that had been watching snarled and started forward. I crouched down, waiting for the next wave.

"The Eagles! The Eagles!" The voice was thin and weak, but it caught my attention. A short figure stood on the crest of the hill Belegeron and I had sat on, pointing to the sky before a flying rock, kicked up by a warg, hit him and he fell to the ground. His cry was soon picked up by everyone, and I howled, partly in delight that we seemed to have a new ally and partly in shock, at the sight of two-dozen eagles larger than a horse - and therefore me - soaring towards us.

.

.

My legs shook as exhaustion caught up to me. The adrenaline I had been running on ebbed away, and I slumped almost as badly as poor Belegeron, who was still out cold. My concern for the scribe was mounting. It had been three hours since he passed out. The battle was over, but for a few stray wargs that were being ran down by mounted elves and men.

I looker up at the sound of a horse galloping closer to me. A chestnut horse stopped ten feet away from me, neighing and tossing its head. I wasn't running. The elf on its back had a bow, and it was aimed at me. I closed my eyes, letting out a huff, as the bowstring stretched back.

"Ughhh..." Belegeron stirred on my back, knotting one of his hands in my bloodied fur. The elf on the horse froze, lowering his bow sharply.

"Belegeron?" The wounded scribe lifted his head wearily, his eyes hazy and dull. He nodded once before going completely limp on my back.

I barked at the other elf, shuffling my paws. With clear reluctance, he swung off of his horse and approached me. I bent my front legs to bring the saddle down to a reasonable level, and he easily took scrawny Belegeron from me. I stood up and looked the elf in the eye, hoping that I looked intimidating.

It didn't work.

He looked at me with clear concern in his eyes, and then spoke.

"Wait here. I will bring healers to tend your wounds."

_Healers? For a warg? What, are there veterinarians here, too? _I shook my head, but grudgingly laid down in the thickly falling snow. Every inch of me hurt. How far away could I get before I just fell down?

.

**Yay! The Battle of Five Armies! And ****_look who got revenge!_**


	13. Chapter 13

**Oh, no! Unlucky thirteen!...just kidding. Thirteen is my lucky number!**

_Chapter Thirteen:_

Enough snow had fallen by the time the healers arrived to nearly bury me. My paws and tail had long gone numb, and the strange absence of feeling was spreading up my legs and along my spine. My ears were drooping groggily when I looker up and saw the elf from before running across the snow, shouting to a team of healers - from all three races, I might add - that were following him. The elves ran lightly over the fresh powder, but the humans and dwarves had sunken through it, and were trying to dig a way through.

The first elf seemed confused for a moment, walking around in circles. He began swiping snow off of random warg-bodies that littered the ground, and I closed my eyes. After what seemed like an eternity - in which the numbness rendered my hind legs completely useless - a warm hand rested on my brow, scraping a full three inches of snow and ice from my fur.

"I found it!" The elf began clearing the snow from my spine, flinching in time with me whenever he accidentally brushed a fresh, bleeding wound. I tried to wag my tail, but it didn't move. After a moment of trying to do something, _anything, _to show my gratitude, I just went limp and whined as the cold powder bit into a scrape on my chin.

The large, warm hands of a dwarf touched my pelt softly. "Aye, this is her. Saw 'er m'self when she came t' the Mountain. Her n' tha' elf." I opened my eyes and shifted my head to look at the crowd that had gathered at my flank. Only two, the elf and a dwarf I was certain had been one of the thirteen at the Mountain, had come close enough to touch me. I blinked as another elf looked at me, fear written on her face. She gulped.

"I don't believe I've ever seen a warg this large," a human commented, startlingly close to my head. "And you said that your brother was on its back? Like it was a horse?"

"Yes." The elf's voice was urgent, and I tried to sit up, alarmed. What had happened? "And I would appreciate it if you helped Oín with its wounds before it loses more blood. Its hind legs are numb."

I groaned with effort and hefted my head off of the ground. My vision spun, but I could see my hind legs clearly. While they had been talking, one of them had apparently poked them with a knife, and then stabbed them, getting no reaction from me. I whined in distress and fell over, my head hitting the ground hard enough to bounce.

"Hurry! Dagwen, Thomas, clean the wounds; Oín, please cooperate with Tegelad for once and stitch the wounds that have been cleaned. Snow should work for the ones that aren't numbed."

I yelped as a handful of icy-cold snow was pressed into a gash on my shoulder. It burned like the orcish scimitar was cutting into me again, and I was glad when the feeling faded into a dull ache. Something tugged repeatedly at the wound shortly afterwards, and I regretted weakly lifting my head to look - one of the elven healers was stitching the broad, red stripe shut, and blood was leaking through it still. The other healer - Dagwen, I guess - was starting a fire with the human healer's help, hanging a shallow metal dish filled with snow over it on a frame of discarded weapons. I watched it, mesmerized, as the snow slowly started to melt. I hadn't seen fire in years...not since I came to Middle Earth...

I howled when a sharp pain pierced my side. Oín pulled his dagger out of my flank immediately. "She still has feelin' here!"

"Good!" The first elf was sitting beside my head, watching me worriedly. "That means that it hasn't spread too much."

I whined and put my head down on the snow. My eyes closed as the blissful warmth of the melted, near-boiling snow was pressed to a nick on my throat. A sigh escaped me before I drifted into unconsciousness.

.

.

When I woke up, I was still at the edge of the battlefield, but with a circle cleared in the snow around me. Only two of the healers, Oín and Dagwen, remained with me, the old dwarf muttering apologies as he poked at me with a dagger, some of the touches making me jump while some I never felt, and the elf carefully cleaning a thick black sludge from my fur. I slowly shifted onto my side, hauling myself halfway up on my front legs. Not the smartest move in the world...or _worlds, _I suppose. Apparently, my paws were still numb, and I slumped back to the ground ungracefully, my chin - now bandaged, with the white cloth holding on via more bandages around my head - hitting the frozen earth with a thud.

One of the healers - my guess was Oín, as Dagwen had looked on the verge of panic when I tried to stand - patted my flank - setting on a domino-effect of pain from my stitched, and/or bandaged wounds. I whined and curled in on myself. The numbness was slowly retreating, leaving my legs and everything it had touched prickling like I was being stabbed again and again.

"Hold on, lass. We're tryin' t' get yeh some covers." The old dwarf's voice was gruff, but it reminded me of Mad-Eye, and I relaxed. I shuddered strongly and dug my front paws into the ground hard enough to sent shots of pain up my legs.

Dagwen's voice was cold, and carried clear insult - whether towards me, Oín, or both of us, I didn't know, but I bristled anyway. "How do you know that it is female? I see no difference between it and the carcasses that surround us."

"On th' contrary, _she-elf," _the healer ground out, agitation in his tone. "I believe tha' there're _many _differences. Fer one, there's the white fur. Th' rest...I think I'll leave it t' yeh t' find out." I shook with laughter, watching the she-elf's face contort and redden with anger. This could be an interesting...however long I would be laying here.

I raised my head again, swaying as my neck ached, but stayed upright this time. Dagwen tossed her hair over her shoulder and went back to work, scrubbing at my pelt with more force than necessary. I looked to the dwarf beside me and tilted my head, a question in my own eyes twinkled as he nodded, stepping back a bit. I took a deep breath, filling my lungs, and then...

"_Woof!_" Dagwen screamed and jumped back, stumbling over her own feet and crashing to the ground. Oín burst out laughing, stomping his feet and clutching his gut as Dagwen pushed herself farther away from me. I was shaking again, and a moment later I threw back my head and howled, my tail beating against the ground. Wait a minute...my tail! It was moving again! My tongue lolled out of my mouth as I grinned at the now-murderous she-elf who was pushing herself to her feet.

"Hush, warg!" She snapped, and I mimicked her in wolfish, causing her face to pale at the grating, canine language.

"_Hush, she-elf!_" I laughed first this time, rumbling and bouncing on the ground. My lungs were aching from holding it back, but somehow I didn't think that my actual, hyena-like howls would be appreciated. Oín recovered quickly and chuckled, putting a hand on my head. He had to stretch a bit, but still...it made me feel welcome.

"Oín! There you are. Uncle's been looking everywhere - _you found her!_" the dwarf that had given me my makeshift shoulder plates had emerged from the fog suddenly, and he was grinning at me. "A bit banged up, then, Miss Hermione?"

I barked at him, causing Dagwen to jump yet again, and he laughed.

"I honestly don't know why I asked...and I don't believe I introduced myself. Kíli, at your service!" He tried to bow, but a sharp cry escaped him and he straightened up hastily.

"Kíli! I told yeh t' stay a' camp till yeh were healed!" Oín rumbled, storming forward. Kíli looked crestfallen and turned to leave. "But...yeh walked all this way, lad. Might as well stay a bit. Sit down."

Kíli happily plopped down on the ground in front of me, pulling an apple from his coat. "So...how've you been, Hermione? Kill any orcs?"

I barked back, sharing an _Are you serious _look with the two dwarves present when Dagwen retreated _again, _tripping over a sword and crashing to the ground.

"_Again,_" she snarled, not even standing back up this time, "_how _do you know that its a female?!"

I looked from Kíli to Oín, still shaking with barely restrained laughter, and then gestured to the she-elf. _Can I?_

_Not yet, _Kíli mouthed, grinning. I huffed and settled my head on my paws.

The steady clip-clop of horse hooves against the compressed snow caught my attention next. Three horses were approaching my little group, and on one of them was... not Belegeron. The elf that had found me, and then brought the healers to me, led the other two, one of whom was Gandalf. The other...I didn't recognize him. He was certainly beat up, with the majority of his skin covered in bruises and cuts, and one arm hung in a sling.

Gandalf spurred his horse on, scowling at me. "Foolish girl! I told you to stay in the camp, and what do you do? You-"

"_I ran away with an elf-scribe and forged an alliance with the Lonely Mountain. Speaking of which, how is said scribe?" _I tried to say Belegeron, but the name wouldn't switch into wolfish. Gandalf gave me a flat glare.

"Crushed! He is crushed, and the breaks won't heal, according to those who have tended him! And whose fault is it? You-"

"_Azog's warg's. Deal with it." _I tilted my head and tried to look innocent as Gandalf stuttered incoherently. Finally, he shook his head.

"You have regained your confidence, then?"

"_Never lost it._"

"You certainly seem different..."

_"Maybe you're just getting old._"

"With age comes wisdom."

"_And also tooth decay. Ever heard of toothpaste?"_

"What...impertinent wolf pup!"

"_Senile old coot!_ _I can do this all day, you know."_

Gandalf shook his head, ignoring the incredulous glances from everyone currently within earshot. "Hermione, I believe that you should shift back. There is someone here who wants to speak with you."

I perked my ears, tilting my head. Someone wanted to speak to me? I reluctantly started to push myself up, and Kíli and Oín leaped up to help me, supporting me on either side. My hind paws were still prickling as the numbness wore off, but I managed to stand back on them and force myself through to my human form. A hiss escaped me as my wounds neither stretched nor shrunk, and the rows of stitches still showed through my ripped dress, now covered almost my entire body. I tried smile as I felt a pain similar to being stabbed in the foot shoot up my leg.

"So...who wants to talk to me? Because this form hurts _really _bad right now, and I want to be a wolf again."

The unfamiliar elf stepped forward, inclining his head to me. My brow furrowed. I felt like I should know him...

"I am King Thranduil of Mirkwood."

Oh...I _did _know him.

.

**So...this chapter is a bit of a comic relief, since I realized that the last one was a bit gory. With the next chapter...I don't know. I have two ways it can go, and it has to do with the Thranduil/Hermione storyline. I can either jump the shark, or take the sure road. And don't worry - the story doesn't end here! I have a few villains of my own that will take a bit longer to take down...bwahahaha!**


	14. Chapter 14

**_Ah! _****Don't kill me! I just wanted a full chapter for this...I didn't knoooow! *rums away screaming***

**Erm... Sorry about that. I'm just ****_really _****excited about this chapter!**

_Chapter Fourteen:_

I backed up on instinct, eyes wide. The Elvenking raised an eyebrow in question and stepped forward to maintain his distance from me. Dagwen had leaped up and bowed the instant she saw her king, and was now glaring at me, daring me not to do the same. With slight reluctance, I curtsied a bit roughly, the stitches across my stomach stretching as I did so. A small trickle of red stained the remains of my dress, and I vaguely heard Oín curse and a second later, he appeared in front of me with a roll of bandages.

"Oín, I believe that King Thranduil would rather speak to Miss Granger before her wounds are tended." Gandalf leveled the elderly dwarf with a glare, and he grudgingly backed away, muttering as he tucked the bandages away in a bag. I swallowed and did my best to look pitiful, titling my ears sideways and slumping. However, Thranduil didn't seem to have noticed my ears before then.

"By the Valar..." His cold, emotionless expression broke, revealing pure wonder at the white-tufter wolf ears that had swiveled on my head. His eyes snapped to my face, and I flinched back.

"I recognize you. You were the blind woman that Mithrandir found in the High Fells." He looked indignant now, and I flattened my ears as he strode to my left, never taking his eyes off of me.

"Yes...I was. And I'll have you know that it wasn't my idea to pretend to be a...a Seer! In fact, I am _far _from a Seer! I hate them!" I bared my teeth on instinct, and Dagwen slowly drew a dagger from her belt. Thranduil held out a hand to stop her.

"What race are you of, that you have the ears of a warg?" I opened my mouth to reply...and stopped. What race _did _I belong to? There were several things I had expected when I was found out, but this simple question wasn't one of them. In fact, _instant death _had seemed more likely to me.

"I..." Which is it, Hermione? This may decide what happens to you... "I don't know. Honestly."

Thranduil didn't look like he believed it. "Really? No parents that you remember, aunts, uncles, cousins, or siblings at all?" I shook my head.

"Just friends...and they weren't friends at all, in the end. Now there's just...just Belegeron." I swallowed a laugh as a look that was close to rage crossed the Elvenking's face.

"The scribe from the Golden Wood? Where does he come in?" I snorted.

"He..." I blushed as I realized exactly how _wrong _this would sound. "He kind of came across me taking a bath a week or so ago..."

Silence.

More silence.

Crickets chirping as dusk fell.

Dwarven laughter.

I allowed myself a smile before I, too, burst out laughing. As the seconds had crept by, Thranduil's face had gotten redder, and redder, until I was certain there was a tomato standing in front of me. Gandalf had simply frozen on the spot. Dagwen was staring at me blankly. And Oín and Kíli were laughing with me.

"Well...I trust that you will be returning to the camp to see...Belegeron?" The scribe's name sounded as if it physically hurt the elf-king, and I looked up at him in alarm. My head slowly bobbed up and down, and Thranduil sighed, trying to regain some dignity.

"Then...if you would like to...please, join me for dinner. Gandalf tells me that you already know where my tent is?"

I nodded, smiling. On the inside, however..._what in Merlin's name is going on here?!_

.

.

I padded barefoot across the snow as the first of the lanterns came on in the camp. My borrowed dress - well, gifted, actually, as it had been found in a virtually untouched portion of Erebor, a seamstress' shop - swished around my ankles, and I drew up the hood of the gray cloak Gandalf had lent me. My ears laid flat on my head when I passed a sleeping guard. Really, it was a little early for that...

I stuck out like a sore thumb among the refugees of Lake-Town. While they wore what little they had salvaged from the wreckage of their homes, I wore a blue (though somewhat sooty) dress that looked like it had been cut from a summer sky. I had protested, of course, but the combined efforts of the dwarves at Erebor had forced me into it. Dwarves were rapidly becoming my favorite race.

However, I was meeting with an elven king at the moment.

I ducked my head and hurried through the tents, hoping that I didn't draw too many gazes. I only really felt comfortable with attention when I was fighting.

Thranduil's tent was still exactly where I remembered, lit up with a lantern and the king himself standing outside, peering into the night. I hovered in the shadows, watching him. He looked...different, somehow. His face certainly wasn't as cold, with worry and anxiety written all over it, and the twigs he had worn in his hair were gone. I took a deep breath and stepped into the light.

Thranduil's eyes snapped to me immediately, and relief broke over his face. He pulled the tent-flap open, stepping aside and gesturing for me to enter. I slowly crossed the snowy ground between us, muttering a quiet thank you as I ducked into the tent.

The inside of the tent was surprisingly simple, with plain tarp walls and a cot pressed against a wall. In fact, the only difference between it and my own tent was that it had a table set up in the center of it. A table that was currently set with a small meal, a lantern hanging from the roof above it.

I jumped as I felt a hand on my arm, surprised. But, as I should have known, it was just Thranduil. He tugged me gently towards the table, pulling out a chair for me to sit in. I did so, watching him warily. Was this...normal...for him?

The elf sat down at the other end of the small table, immediately picking up a wooden fork and putting a piece of fish onto his plate. "Your name is Hermione, correct?"

I nodded, following his example and scooping a few peas onto my plate. I really wasn't hungry, and if I was, I wouldn't be eating human food. Fresh meat was much better. "Yes. Hermione Jean Granger."

"An unusual name, to be sure," Thranduil mused. I glanced up at him, and my heart stopped when I saw him looking at me...strangely. Not a bad type of strange, but still...

"It's from...A Winter's Tale." I said a bit too quickly, playing with the peas on my plate. "My mother loved it...I think." No! Why did I do that? I told him not even an hour ago that I didn't remember my family!

"A Winter's Tale?" The elf only sounded curious, not even noticing my slip-up. "I've never heard of it."

"I've never read it, myself," I admitted, spearing a pea and examining it. I could feel the Elvenking's gaze on me again. "I suppose that it's a charming story, though."

"Oh. Suppose I tell you an elven story?"

I tried to hide it, but my curiosity was peaked. "...okay."

I listened attentively for what must have been hours to the tale of Beren and Luthien. How Luthien, an immortal elf, had fallen for Beren, a mortal man. It was a beautiful story, and could have been one of Shakespeare's works if he had written tales like the one I was now living. Thranduil was an amazing storyteller, and I thought that I could actually see the scenes and events he described.

"...but the point is...elves only fall in love once." I came back to full awareness as the king's tone changed, and I looked back up to see him staring at me with unnerving intensity. "And some of them are fool enough to fall for a mortal...like me."

I blinked, shocked. "Who have you fallen for, then?" If I had been more aware and less sleepy, I might have felt awkward, asking that. However, I just watched Thranduil curiously. He reached out, brushing my cheek with the back of his hand.

"Ever since I saw you..."

_What?! _ My eyes shot wide open, realization dawning on me. My ears tilted back, and my heart was trying to beat out of my chest. This was too much.

I shifted into my warg form and burs out of the tent, running away as fast as my legs would carry me.

Too much.

.

**Don't kill me! I'm not sure how this one turned out, either...**

**And, by the way...OH MY GOSH! 100 REVIEWS!**


	15. Chapter 15

_Chapter Fifteen:_

I paced back and forth among the trees, my ears flat against my head. My heart was beating so fast that I was sure that anyone with ears could catch onto it, my legs trembling unsteadily. This wasn't real. This wasn't happening. Not to me, not right now, not after all of this! I was just Hermione now, with no one pressing me to release my warg self for one reason or another. I was Hermione the bookworm, the same girl that had picked up that book for the first time, years ago. I couldn't - _shouldn't _- be a king's only love. And a king I'd just met, no less...

What was happening to my life? When had I changed so much, that this was happening?

_You picked up that book, Hermione,_ a voice in my head whispered. To me, it sounded like my other self - Redhorn. _You couldn't cope with that traitor's absence, and you just had to play at being a Ravenclaw!_

_Stop it! _I shook myself firmly, growling at Redhorn. My ears flicked back and forth, and I stamped at the packed snow. A deep breath of icy air filled my lungs. _I'm not listening to you anymore. I have bigger problems._

I stood stock still for a moment, mind whirring, and then slumped to the ground. The frozen earth caught my head in a way that seemed almost gentle after how I'd been thrown into the blood-soaked dirt. I couldn't handle this. I needed to get away. Far, _far _away.

My eyes snapped wide open as I heard the small, almost silent sound of something walking across the thick, untouched snow. Who could have followed me...heck, who _would _have followed me out here, miles away from the camp? I tried to relax into the ground, sighing as I reclosed my eyes. Whatever it was came closer, and closer, until I could feel its hot breath on my pelt. A distinctly canine scent washed over me, and my muscles seized up.

"_Who are you?!" _I flipped onto my paws, frightening the dog into hurrying backwards. A growl started to rip from my throat, but then...the harsh, feral sound stuttered to an abrupt halt, my eyes widening as my ears hung sideways, slack with shock. It looked just like...

The large black dog - still only reaching my chest - bared his teeth, stormy eyes glinting with dogged determination, and started to back away even more, growling back at me. Its fur looker like it might have been well-groomed once, heck, the whole _dog _looked like he'd once been very well taken care of, but it now hung off of him in singed, ice-encrusted tufts, his ribs showing plainly through it.

I stood there, most likely looking like the most brain-dead warg in Middle Earth, and before I could check myself, a whine rose from my chest. The dog, still looking ruffled and threatened, shrank away from me with a snarl. I couldn't believe I was going to do this. I couldn't believe it at all. Legs still aching from my flight, I lowered my head to the ground, flashing the whites of my eyes at the dog. His head tilted, confusion etched in his strange eyes. Wargs weren't meant to show submission...

He slowly inched forward, sniffing and snorting softly as he approached. I thought I knew why. Some dogs - and wargs - could smell deceit. Unfortunately, I wasn't one of them. I could only watch silently as the dog approached, sniffing a slow circle around me before tapping one of my ripped ears with his snout.

"_I ask the questions, here. Now...who are _you?" I shook with displeasure at being addressed as a lower dog than the bedraggled canine before me. Nevertheless, I spoke, my wolfish muted by my muzzle's close proximity to the ground.

"_Hermione Granger. Can I please get up?" _

The dog jerked back as if my words had bitten him. I slowly climbed to my paws, ducking my head to still be on eye level with him. He was shaking, shaking badly, and I sniffed the air around him. Sure enough, something had upset the animal almost as badly as he was shaking.

His eyes were both joyous and sad when he looked back up at me. "_Pup...what _happened _to you..."_

_._

_Belegeron's PoV_

My limbs felt heavy as I slowly shifted on my narrow cot. Dagwen, one of the elven healers from Mirkwood, bent over my leg and brushed her fingers across the crushed, bruised mass of bone and flesh that it had become. I winced at the pain that shot up my spine.

"It's a bad break," she said at last, sounding oddly detached as she straightened up. "Your warg must weigh twice as much as a horse."

"No, she isn't _mine,_" I managed to hiss through gritted teeth - the herbs I had been given were wearing off, and the overwhelming pain of my injury was coming back. "But...aye, she must be heavy. I have been pinned under a horse before, and...it hurt nowhere near as much as this." My vision wavered at the agony spreading from my leg. Dagwen - it must have been her, even if I didn't see her - carefully supported me as I slumped back to the cot. A hot, throbbing pain was spreading through me, and I reached to the dried leaves I had been given to when the previous dose wore off. A gentle hand pressed them into my palm, and I gratefully curled my fingers around them. They tasted bitter, but it was a welcome relief for the pain to ebb away.

"Oh? But then why did you stay with her...or she with you?" Dagwen's face swam into view as my vision returned. She looked distinctly ruffled at the mention of Hermione. I furrowed my brow.

"We are friends, Lady Healer. Nothing more, nothing less. Although...she could have done less damage to my leg." The next words stuck in my throat for a moment. "Will...will I be able to walk, after all of this?"

She frowned a bit, probing the wound. I barely felt it, under the effect of the herbs. "It's not likely. I've never seen damage like this, in all my years...and I knew the Greenwood before this darkness descended on it. No, I don't believe that you will have use of your leg, even if all the resources of the elves are expended."

I swallowed, tears pricking my eyes. "So...my leg...it will be useless?"

Dagwen gave me a sympathetic look. "Quite."

Oh, Valar. I had wished this would never happen...

"Then...I think that, under the circumstances," my voice broke as the tears came. "Under the circumstances, I think that..."

.

_Hermione's PoV_

Sirius had a hard time believing that I was really in Middle Earth, but when he did accept it, he was exactly the same as the wizard who had fallen through the Veil when I was fifteen.

"_This...it's amazing! I can't believe it! Oh, you have no idea how _bored _I've been. It really is no fun to play house pet for a human family!" _As he spoke, his tail wagged harder and harder until I was scared that he would tip over.

"_Well, I _am _here." _I blinked sleepily from where I lay on a patch of snowless ground underneath a live oak. This was all getting to be too much, first with the battle, the stitches - which had caused Sirius quite a bit of panic - then Thranduil, and now Sirius! Speaking of which... "_You said that you were bored?"_

_"Oh __Merlin__ yes!" _Sirius whined, plopping down on his hindquarters. I barked in amusement.

"_Then I have an idea - I want to see this world! I've only ever seen a portion of the mountains, and the rest was at night." _Sirius would have been grinning if he was a human. He leaped to his feet - paws - and ran in a circle.

"_Then let's _go!"

"_Give me a break! I need sleep!"_

_._

_Meanwhile, in the Wizarding World..._

_._

"When are we attacking, my lord? I have trained for years - it would be a relief if it were to all pay off." The brown-eyed woman stared down her employer, her large, leathery wing flexing behind her. A pair of fangs peeked out from under her lips.

"Soon, my dear, soon. They are separating - this makes us all the more likely to succeed. They are _all _separating, in both realms. I would not attack until they have already torn themselves down a good deal more." The masked man clasped his hands behind his back as he looked down at Diagon Alley from the roof of a shop. The once-cheery place was in shambles, with distrustful glares being shot from wizard to wizard.

No, it would not be long at all...

.

**Yes, I'm ever so slightly insane, especially since I am running the risk of severe injury here. Double cliffhanger! I feel almost sorry about poor Belegeron...**


	16. Chapter 16

_Chapter Sixteen:_

_._

"Keep up, Pup!" Sirius stood, barely visible, on a rock some thirty feet in front of me. I flicked my ears, chasing away a few snowflakes that had settled on the delicate fur. I jumped down from my perch on a fallen log at Mirkwood's border, slipping on the slick ice as my cloth-wrapped feet threatened to slide out from under me. As I should have remembered, adventuring was _not _my forte. _Especially _in the dead of winter with my ex-friend's dead godfather. Sirius had had longer to adjust to Middle-Earth's frigid winters - and consequently, moving around in them. For the past few days, he had always been several steps ahead of me, and I was frankly getting fed up with it. Hermione the Gryffindor was officially back.

"Slow _down, _Sirius! If you've somehow forgotten from when I told you _ten minutes ago, _some of us have stitches! I can't _run _with these!" Through the dim half-light, I could see Sirius' expression soften. The neat rows of thread on my skin were still obvious, even in the heavy winter clothes he'd stolen from a merchant who had come to Lake-Town. Thankfully, they weren't bleeding. Sirius might have flipped if they were.

"How do you expect to ever reach the western shore with those?" The other shifter looked back at me as he leaped to the ground, purposefully stomping in a puddle. Unfortunately, that puddle was frozen solid, and my companion slipped and slid until he went sprawling into the snow. I snorted.

"How do _you _expect to even see the Misty Mountains with accidents like those?" I was close enough to be easily heard now, and Sirius threw a handful of snow at me. It splattered on my forehead, and I grinned, stooping down.

"Bad idea."

We must have looked exceedingly silly to anyone insane enough to be out in this weather, especially this far from any civilization. Snowballs flew through the air almost nonstop, breaking apart when they struck something. Sirius yelled indignantly each time I hit him, and I burst out laughing when he suddenly jumped a foot in the air, screaming. The older wizard took off running, swerving in circles as I nearly fell over laughing.

"_There is snow where snow should not be! I repeat, THERE IS SNOW WHERE SNOW SHOULD NOT BE!" _I sat down hard, falling sideways into the snow as I shook silently, all of my air used up. Sirius was now jumping up and down patting his pants in an effort to melt the snow, and as I watched...well, I wished I hadn't.

"_Sirius! _If you're going to get rid of the snow, _get rid of it somewhere else!_" I rolled over and covered my eyes, listening to Sirius laugh at me, instead of the other way around. And just when I thought that he had the last laugh...

_Riiiip!_

"_Oh sweet Merlin, that's cold!" _My eyes widened behind my hands, and I cautiously peeked out from between my fingers.

Sirius had slipped on another patch of ice, this time managing to do the splits and rip his pants. Which were currently buried in snow, with the wizard still wearing them.

I couldn't help it. The longer I watched, the funnier it got, and I curled in on myself, my lungs aching as I laughed harder than I had in my whole life. Sirius scowled at me, trying to look dignified as he stood and brushed snow off of his ripped trousers.

"Don't hurt yourself, Pup." This was said so sarcastically that I laughed harder, shaking with amusement.

"Sorry..." I slowly sat up, hiccuping. Sirius was still shivering, and I smirked. "Will you slow down now?"

.

The Misty Mountains. I hadn't imagined I would ever willingly see them again, but here I was, with a wizard I'd thought dead. It was nothing short of amazing, with an actual friend beside me and not a creature that I would kill later on.

"So...this is where you're from?" Sirius had somewhat recovered from his cold shock, and was looking at me from under lowered brows. I shook my head.

"No. I was farther north. Almost a month's travel on foot north, actually. This is Goblin-Town. Get ready for trouble."

"Wait, we're actually going to fight? _Finally!_" He ran past me, and I snorted at him, slipping into my wolf form. I used it sparingly now, seeing as I felt...different...afterwards. Like an actual warg.

I pounded after him, the wind whistling in my fur. The speed was breathtaking, as always, as I sped up the slope to the cliff where I had first seen the dwarves. Sirius was panting and struggling to keep on when I barreled past him, kicking snow up in his face. I barked as the black dog bounded up beside me, its legs flashing underneath it.

I slowed as we neared the back-door. It was unnaturally quiet, for a community of goblins, and I pricked my ears, listening intently. Maybe the mountains really _had _been emptied...but I wasn't letting my guard down. More than goblins lived in the tunnels.

The heavy rock that blocked the back-door moved easily when both Sirius and I pushed it, the strength of our animal forms forcing it aside. The tunnels beyond were dark and dank, and I coughed as I took a deep breath. I just hoped that we would find the other side soon...was the gate of Moria still operational? Or had that cursed dam finally let the water up to the doorstep?

Even Sirius, who had been virtually fearless throughout the entire journey, cowered close to my side, watching the shadows with due caution. He had seen the Battle, albeit from a distance, and knew what goblins in large numbers were capable of. I bared my teeth, prowling through the narrow passages on silent paws. There was something deeply wrong here...

I held back a yelp as something brushed my foot, and Sirius barked shortly, anger in his voice. My eyes narrowed and I looked to the ground. A silver mask laid on the ground, a splash of blood on the cheek. Red blood, not the black of goblins and orcs. And the metalwork was too elaborate for the primitive minds of the tunnel-dwellers. Elves, maybe? But then, what were elves doing in the mountains, in an abandoned goblin settlement?

I jumped over the bloody mask, jogging down the winding tunnels with ears up. There were sounds now, getting closer and louder the farther I climbed into Goblin-Town. A faint green glow met me as I slunk onto a rock overlooking the 'throne room'.

There was no doubt who stood on the rickety wooden platform, shouting orders to a group of masked people with carved wands in their hands. The face had been burned into my memory often enough during my stay in Malfoy Manor, where my animagus form had screamed for release during my torture. The constant fear of what - and who - would be responsible for my death.

The war wasn't over quite yet, I thought as I crawled backwards, holding back a snarl. Not yet. Sirius emerged from the tunnel behind me, stiffening at the scent of menace and hate that was so strong that even _I _could smell it.

Fenrir Greyback was in Middle-Earth.

.

**Yeah...not sure how that turned out. Sorry if it stunk! And Legolas ****_will _****be in this story!**


	17. Chapter 17

**Yay! Happy dance! This is the ****_farthest _****I have ****_ever _****gotten with a story!**

_Chapter Seventeen:_

_._

_Legolas PoV_

"You will lead one of the search parties-"

"Yes, father."

"You will not return until you have found your stepmother-"

"Yes, but I am afraid that I do not quite understa-"

"Understand what, Legolas? I have made my instructions as clear as possible."

I met my father's gaze steadily, standing tall. "Why are you so convinced that this woman-"

"Hermione." Thranduil stated firmly. I held back a sigh.

"How do you know for certain that she will love you as well? That is what the old tales warn of, of course. Elves may love each other for life, but humans-"

"Are unpredictable." My father turned and strode across the tent. "But Hermione Granger is different. I can feel the magic that laces the air around her; she is not quite normal by the standards of Men. And even if she rejects me completely, I will know that I at least tried."

I let my shoulders slump slightly. Thranduil was set on this, no matter the result. I would find this...Hermione...and bring her back here, whether she wanted to be with him or not.

The wind was icy cold as I pushed my way out of the comparatively warm tent. The bustle that had preceded and followed the Battle was dying down, with all bodies of dwarves, men, elves, and even eagles having been buried in a large mound outside of camp. The stench of rotting orcs and wargs filled the air, and I wrinkled my nose against the smell. I was beginning to wish that the dwarves would just go ahead and light the entire battlefield on fire to be rid of the orcish bodies.

My horse was tethered where I'd left it - on the edge of the elven camp, just out of sight of the Men. I swung easily onto its back, gathering the reins in my hands. The rest of the search party seemed to melt from the trees, and I sighed as I spurred my horse westwards.

How far could a woman get on foot before she wanted to stop, after all?

.

_Hermione's PoV_

"Sirius, hurry! We have to warn them!" I ran as fast as I could down the steep, pebbly slope behind the back-door. Sirius was sliding down it grudgingly, his first instinct being to attack Greyback straight out.

"Of what?! 'Mione, we can't exactly say that a troop of wizards from another world is planning an attack. C'mon, we can take them!" The older wizard pumped a fist in the air in an attempt to look confident, which he really was, maybe even foolishly so, and he lurched forward as the pebbles under his booted feet began to move. I yelled and leaped for a tree as the entire slope gave way, the rocks and clumps of packed dirt battering my legs and carrying Sirius all the way down the hill, at which point the landslide rose like a wave and covered his head. I started forward, but his head popped up a moment later, dusty and pebble-covered, but relatively unharmed.

"And who are we warning in the first place?" Sirius did a great job dusting himself off and pretending that he had never taken a tumble down the hill. "Your friend, Belegeron, seems pretty out of it, from what you've said, and this 'Kíli' character...I don't like him."

"And you're just saying this because you two are _exactly _alike," I called as I hurried to the base of the slope.

"Are not!"

"Face it, Sirius - you and Prince Kíli could be long-lost brothers. But maybe you'll just have to meet him first..."

"_You lie!_" I rolled my eyes at my companion's outburst.

"Anyways, I... I wasn't thinking of bringing it up to either of them. Belegeron couldn't help, even if he wasn't currently healing, and none of the dwarves really take Kíli seriously. If we're going to make sure that Greyback doesn't harm this world, then we'll have to tell a higher-ranking figure of him."

"A higher position than a prince? Wow, I'd like to see you actually _know _a k-"

"King Thranduil. We spoke...briefly."

Sirius fell into shocked silence after that. He jogged alongside me as I painfully lengthened my strides, trying to ignore the shooting pain from my mistreated stitches. Some of the wounds had broken open during the landslide, and were currently caked with dirt and rocks. I would have to clean them, and soon, or I would risk an infection.

I was rigid with expectation as night fell. This was the time of the goblins, winter or not, and a stitched-up warg and a black dog, no matter how large or brave, would not be able to hold their own for long. My eyes snapped to the forest ahead of us as a howl broke through the silence of the night, and I drew back into the shadow of a rock with Sirius as five wargs - crossbreeds between those of Gundabad and Moria -burst into sight, chasing a rabbit. They were gone quickly, galloping over a hill in pursuit of their fast-paced meal, and I hurried across the field, keeping to the shadows. I knew when to pick a fight, and this was _not _the time.

If I had to take a guess, I would say that we were halfway to the Carrock when dawn came. Sirius was panting, even if my days as a warg-mount had hardened me when it came to travel without rest, and I grudgingly slowed, sweeping my gaze across the flat meadowland we were crossing. A large rock stood some half-mile ahead of us, and I pulled my companion along to the small, concealed space it offered.

Sirius collapsed onto the slushy ground with a huff the instant I stopped moving, and I settled next to him, leaning cautiously against the rock. My back popped and stretched, used to holding me upright.

I watched as the sun slowly traveled across the sky, its light waning steadily, and Sirius was still sleeping when the moon rose. I slowly lowered myself to the ground, sighing as I closed my eyes. A whine escaped me just before I slipped off into sleep.

_The sounds of the battle were all around me again, bombarding my ears with dying screams of all races and the angry roars of wargs. Pain shot up my leg, and I looked up, vision blurry. A dark-furred warg stood over me, brown eyes sharp with worry. One of its hind legs was hopelessly crushed and mangled, and as I watched it, its identity slowly clicked in my mind._

_Belegeron's gaze turned reproachful and he turned away, limping heavily. His wound got worse with each step, and I tried to get up and follow him. Before I could, a sharp bark sounded behind me, and I turned as quickly as I could. Sirius, in dog form, stood on the hill that Belegeron and I had sat on so often. His tail wagged happily, and he barked playfully, tossing his head to the east. To _adventure._ Another dog, with dark brown fur, stood with him, looking just as excited about the possible journey. I rolled to my feet, walking towards them._

_A faint tug on my heart made itself known, and I turned, brows furrowed. Who...?_

_Thranduil was waiting on the edge of Mirkwood, which seemed much closer than before and then again years away, wearing a crown of branches with spring flowers woven into it. He smiled welcomingly, pleadingly, and held out something._

_A second crown, this one made of interwoven vines with wildflowers among them._

_I whined, even in my human form, as I turned to look at each path. Belegeron, limping away; Sirius and the smaller dog, ready for adventure; and the Elvenking, offering me a throne. The images faded, faster and faster..._

"Hermione! C'mon, Pup, you're having a nightmare! Up!" Sirius was shaking me roughly, stretching the stitches on my shoulder. I yelped and sat bolt upright, eyes wide and panicked.

If I was turning into a bloody Seer, then I would personally apply for the job at Hogwarts. If I ever saw it again.

.

**Chapter seventeen, all wrapped up! And yes, this story ****_is _****a bit wolf-centric, but the real question should be...what is my obsession with black animals with crescent moons on their hide?! I swear that I've used that in every story so far...or I'm planning to.**


	18. Chapter 18

_Chapter Eighteen:_

_._

I growled and lowered my head threateningly, fur standing on end. Sirius was a mound of motionless black fur among the bracken behind me, blood pooling around him. The wild wargs - they were curiously far from the mountains, they must have followed the goblins when they marched on Erebor - paced back and forth before me, eyes glowing in the light of the fire that stood between me and them. I barked angrily, slamming my front paws against the ground, and they seemed to laugh at me, their amused yips rising into the air. I tensed as one of them tried to edge around the fire, muscles coiled for an attack.

_"Leave!" _I roared, leaping forward and shunting the warg back to its pack. Its pale coat shone with red light as it ventured closer again, fangs bared threateningly. My ears flicked back and forth as I crept closer, a growl building in my throat. The warg snarled back, and I crouched, ready to pounce.

"_Go back to your master, white-fur!" _I sighed and shook my head, eyes narrowed as I looked to the brindled black-and-yellow wild warg that stood almost as close to me as the sandy not-quite-pup. White-fur? That was _really _the best insult they could come up with? I was proud of my snowy pelt, thank you very much.

_"And why should I listen to you, knife-face?" _the warg barked indignantly as the rest of his pack burst into howls of laughter. The old scars on his muzzle and across his left eye glared at me just as angrily as his functioning eye did. I remembered him. Azog, curse him and his grave, had ordered one of his henchmen to take a knife to this very warg's face three years before, and I snarled in vicious satisfaction as the beast growled angrily, pacing back and forth. A russet warg at the back of the pack yipped happily at his leader's indignation.

_"Like you have any room to laugh, wooden-foot!" _I grinned, tongue lolling out, as the warg roared at me in insult, his crippled, furless hind paw shoving against the frozen earth.

Sirius whined behind me, and I looked back for a moment, concerned. He looked almost as crushed as Belegeron's leg, with the snow underneath him stained red and the giant warg bite on his side horribly vivid against his black fur. And that was the opening that knife-face had been waiting for.

"_Attack!" _I yelped the sandy warg crashed into me, sending me sprawling. A mouth full of teeth sank into my shoulders, and I howled as the crushing weight of the other three wargs piled on top of me. Knife-face snarled and hovered over me, and I had a sudden thought.

_This is what the Defiler felt before I killed him._

_I am about to die._

_I'm going to die, and then Sirius will die, and then Middle Earth will be caught by surprise by Greyback..._

_I can't let that happen._

I roared with effort and surged upward, latching my teeth into knife-face's jugular. He howled in agony, the sound gurgling with his own blood as I crushed his windpipe. My eyes glowed angrily in the firelight just before I dragged my head back to the ground, sending the dying warg flying off of me. I released my hold on his throat and barked at the rest of them.

Wooden-foot wasted no time. He rocked back into his heels, fur shining like fire, and howled, the sound echoing across the field on the edge of Mirkwood. I yelped, growled, and snapped, but it was no use - two dozen more wargs had seemingly materialized from the dark, reinforcing my attackers. I flopped like a fish, trying to throw them off with my larger frame, but the weight on me got greater and greater until I could barely draw breath. My vision was already fading as I saw one of the newcomers hold Sirius up by his throat. I heard a faint roaring noise, and I let myself slowly slip into my human form. If I was going to die, then I wanted to die on two legs. The sound was getting closer, sounding almost like a phoenix song.

Something hit wooden-foot, eliciting a snarling yip from him. The night was suddenly full of flying arrows, the fletchings and tips flashing in the light of the fire. One by one, the wargs holding me down vanished, either dead, dying, or fleeing. Nearly all of my stitches had ripped out in the attack, and I was fighting for consciousness even without my air supply being limited.

My ragged breathing stopped for a moment as a face that was so familiar and yet so strange appeared in my field of vision.

"Thranduil...help..." The elf's brow creased. He really did look like Thranduil, but...not quite. I tried to point to Sirius. "Dog. Hurt."

The elf looked up and shouted to someone else, gesturing to Sirius. His blue eyes moved back to me immediately. When he spoke, it was with an accent, different from Thranduil's.

"Are you Hermione Granger?" I nodded slowly, pain eating away at my vision. The Thranduil lookalike nodded back and shouted to his companions again.

"I found her!"

.

When I came to, I was on a horse. Not the elk I'd almost expected from the elf, but a white stallion, its pale yellow mane bouncing on its neck. I was held steady by what must have been the elf that had found me after the wargs were gone, and a strong arm was on either side of me. My surroundings were pure forest, and if I squinted, I could see Sirius, in dog form, trotting alongside the horse. I sat up slowly, as I had been leaning back against the elf, and winced as pain racked my body. All of my stitches had been redone, and a thick herbal scent, very unlike the strong medicinal smell that had lingered after I was first stitched up, rose from the wounds, which had some sort of ointment smeared on them.

"Where..."

"Mirkwood forest, milady." The elf behind me answered.

"When..?"

"Two days past your attack, milady."

"Who are-"

"Legolas, milady. Legolas Thranduilion."

Did that mean something? If it meant he was related to Thranduil...

"I need to speak to him. Thranduil, I mean." I tried to turn around, the stitches stretching unpleasantly. Legolas' cool blue eyes met my golden with some surprise.

"A coincidence, then. For my father sent me to find you and bring you to him. We shall arrive by the setting sun tomorrow."

I signed and leaned back again. Sirius came closer to the horse, and I barked a wolf-like laugh. His glossy fur, the pride of his life - besides his friends - had been shaved off in several places, the skin stitched up and smeared with the same ointment that was on mine.

I closed my eyes and drifted off into sleep, the smell from my stitches lulling me into unconsciousness. Stupid elven medicine...


	19. Chapter 19

**I told myself that I would only update once a day at the most, but...I'm so ****_bored._**

_Chapter Nineteen:_

_._

_Sirius' PoV_

I wagged my tail as one of the elves patted my head, inwardly cursing my colorblindness. They all looked the same! The exact freaking same! Long hair, dark clothing, boots, weapons...that was how I was beginning to tell them apart. This one had a dagger in his belt (that had been used to shave off my fur...I didn't even want to _think _about what that would do to my hair as a human...) the one who had stitched my side together had the faint outline of a knife in his boot and another on his forearm, the _one _elf-woman had a dagger _and _a bow, and the only other one that I had even noticed was very easy to distinguish, given that he was always near Hermione.

I snarled as the latter sat beside my godson's friend, draping a cloak across her shoulders. Enough was enough. He got up to get a bowl of soup for her, and I darted across the camp, flopping down very deliberately where he had been sitting. Hermione cast me a strange glance, and I sneezed, the stitches in my side hurting. My eyes started to droop as the heat from my new, closer-to-the-fire position started to seep into my fur...what was left of it, at least. Maybe a nap wouldn't hurt...

I blinked, startled, as something was set on the ground in front of me. Elf-boy - the one who was always near Hermione - smiled at me and pushed the bowl of soup closer. Hermione was already eating hers, lips pursed as she watched me. No doubt she was imagining elf-boy's reaction if he knew I was a human.

I scooted back as the bowl came closer, and a whine escaped my throat. _Merlin, I never want to meet another elf..._

I yipped and scrambled back, flipping over, as elf-boy tried to actually spoon the soup into my mouth. I snapped angrily at his hand, eyes narrowed as he refilled the spoon and held it up again.

"Here comes the airplane..." Hermione muttered, smirking as the elf succeeded in feeding me. I gagged at the taste that filled my mouth, trickling down my throat.

_What the heck _is _that crap?!_

I whined and dragged myself up, hobbling as fast as possible to one of the half-melted puddles around the camp. I thrust my muzzle into it, gulping down the icy water, and fell over onto my side. Never again...I would never eat soup offered to me by an elf ever again...

After the taste had finally faded - for the most part - and my dignity fully restored, I raised my head and looked at the group of fifteen that sat around the campfire. It was amazing, really, that none of them were flipping out at the sight of her unnatural golden eyes and tufted white wolf ears. Maybe I should shift, just for the heck of it...

Nope. I had a stitched wound on my stomach from the brief warg-attack, and it would translate into a _vastly _uncomfortable place if I transformed right now...okay. Scaring elf-boy and his gang could wait until I was healed.

I dropped my head to my paws, and what seemed like three seconds later, Hermione was shaking me awake, laughing as my stomach grumbled.

I just hoped that wherever we were heading had good food...and a barber. My fur...

.

_Hermione's PoV_

I was fully awake, this time, as Legolas lifted me onto the horse, making sure that my hands were firmly closed on the saddle horn before climbing on behind me. I sighed and stretched, trying to look farther along the winding path we were following through Mirkwood. It seemed clear, only turning slightly, but the farther I looked...the more it faded out, the stones and trees blending together. Sirius was...nowhere to be seen, actually. My brow furrowed. Where was he? Hadn't I woken him up...?

The steady clip-clop of horse hooves approached on the right, and I froze solid at what I saw. Tauriel, one of the guards that had accompanied the search party, was riding beside Legolas, and on the saddle behind her...oh, dear. On the saddle behind her was Sirius the dog, giving me a canine grin, complete with lolling tongue, as Legolas and the guard struck up a conversation in elvish. Stupid animagus...

I blinked rapidly as the forest suddenly gave way to clear sunlight, a river running alongside the stone-lined path to the Lake, which shimmered coldly in the late winter sunlight. The horse seemed startled, too, stamping its hooves momentarily before Legolas managed to calm it down. The elf was practically beaming as I turned to look at him.

"The Greenwood is healing. The paths no longer drag on forever." I pursed my lips and looked back ahead. Okay...wasn't aware that a sick forest had magically lengthened paths.

Sirius barked excitedly, bounding off of the saddle he shared with Tauriel and sprinting down the path, wagging his tail furiously. I laughed and sat straighter as the horse started forward again, ears perked as it followed Sirius curiously.

Unfortunately, the other wizard wasn't quite ready for intelligent elven horses yet. He barked in panic and took off, kicking up clumps of mud as he ran. The horse neighed loud enough to make Legolas and I cover our ears before it galloped after the shifter.

I have never been happier to be the one to sit in front. Legolas fell backwards, yelling as he tumbled to the ground and was immediately surrounded by guards.

"Legolas!"

"Prince Legolas, are you well?"

"Speak, my prince!"

I tried to copy what the elf had said to calm the horse earlier, patting the animal's neck as I did so. It slowed dramatically, prancing in a neat half-circle before turning and trotting back to its owner. Legolas was sprawled out on the ground, but getting up.

"Curse that dog!" I laughed with the others as he pulled himself into the saddle again, wincing, and Sirius made sure to keep his distance from then on.

The elven camp was several leagues closer to the forest than I'd expected, with the tents now set up among tall, dry weeds that camouflaged the tan tarps very well. I looked around curiously as the horse I was on slowed to a stop, holding its head high. I needed to bring the Greyback incident up...immediately. And to one specific person.

But where was Thranduil?

.

_Very Brief Thranduil PoV_

"But what will I say? She was uncomfortable, to say the least, with my previous attempt-"

"Meaning that she ran away as a warg and hasn't been seen for weeks."

"I told the truth! Why did she run? I have to come up with a better way..."

"Let us try this odd trick called _tact. _It generally makes news or confessions easier to accept, and may help you in the case of the White Warg."

I stopped dead in my tracks, shoulders stiffening. "_What _did you just call her?"

Haeredon, the apprentice of the demised Head Advisor, clasped his hands behind his back. "I called her what she is, my liege. Now, back to the subject at hand..."

.

_Hermione PoV_

I slid down from the saddle, carefully settling my feet on the cool earth. I looked down and tried to stop the uncomfortable blush from rising on my cheeks. Maybe I should have decided to tell Kíli instead...

"You had something you wished to tell me, _meleth..._Hermione?" Thranduil, folded his hands on the table...the exact same table we had been eating at when he suddenly announced his undying love for me with no warning at all. I took a deep breath and nodded.

"When I disappeared...I went a bit...farther than the opposite edge of Mirkwood. I went to the Misty Mountains."

"In little more than two weeks? That is impressive timing. But what drove you back?" I tried to ignore the strange look in his eyes. Only Ron had looked at me like that before, and that was prior to...

Yeah. That.

"This may be a little shocking to you." I looked down, shuffling my feet, "but peace isn't here...quite yet. We might have a...a problem.

.

**So...I'm having an interesting time with fanfiction and my life right now. For one, yesterday, my little sister tried to say, "I'm sorry" and ended up saying "I'm Sauron." And another thing...I saw the movie Big Hero 6, and I'm on a kick with fanfictions and crossovers about it. I want to write a How to Train Your Dragon crossover, and a Lord of the Rings and/or Hobbit crossover about it, but...who would read it? :,(**


	20. Chapter 20

_Chapter Twenty:_

_._

_Harry's PoV_

I sighed irritably as I dipped my quill in the inkwell next to my hand. The stack of papers in front of me didn't even have a dent in it after an hour of working. I furrowed my brow and leaned forward, starting to read the next report. _Five cases of hexed shoes in London...Obliviators mobilized, St. Mungo's notified..._

I felt like banging my head against the wall at this point. Why didn't they just hand me a single paper saying, "_Cursed objects have been placed among muggles"_? Shoes, handbags, books, flowers, even _glasses _that had been enchanted by wizards had been somehow finding their way into the hands of the nonmagical population. I had seen each report as it popped into my office - a girl who had been bitten by a snapdragon flower and promptly grew petals on her head and her skin turned green, a man who'd tried to read a misplaced textbook only for it to attack him outright. I shifted to the stack of unused memos on the far edge of the desk and scooped one up, scratching words down on it.

_Aurors Dean Thomas and Ron Weasley, dispatched immediately to London area. Five cases of hexed shoes. Find and arrest wizard(s) responsible._

The paper rose off of the wooden surface the instant I released it, folding into a paper airplane before my eyes, and zipped off with incredible speed. I leaned back briefly before forcing myself to sit up and continue working. _Illegal levitation charms on muggles' brooms-_

"Will _someone _just _find _the _idiot _responsible for all of this?!" I slammed my fist on the desk and kicked against it, forgetting that my chair didn't have wheels.

_Squeeeeaaaaak! _

I yelled as the chair slid back with a loud, grating, nails-on-a-chalkboard noise before basically flipping over, spilling me onto the wooden floor. My head collided with the hard wood with a sickening crack, and I touched it lightly. My fingers came away tinted red, and I scowled at them. _Stupid chair..._

"Head Auror Potter!" I jumped up, trying to smooth my bangs to hide the bleeding wound on my head. I stumbled over a book as I pulled my chair upright and sat down. The door opened as one of the trainee Aurors, a young woman who had been recruited only a week before, peeked in. "There's someone here to see you, sir. A Miss Parkinson."

I tilted my head, feeling my brows draw together in confusion. Parkinson? As in, Pansy Parkinson? Why would a Slytherin - who _hated my guts, _I might add - want to see me? Why would _any Slytherin _in the entire world even look at me of their own free will?

I sat up straight as a short form slipped past the trainee, head bowed and a hooded cloak obscuring its features and the majority of its body. She sat down in the spindly chair across from me, looking up almost shyly from underneath her hood. I stiffened as I caught a red glint from the shadows of it.

"Harry Potter." Pansy's voice wasn't as piglike as it had been in Hogwarts. In fact, it almost sounded like a hiss... "You have changed."

I self-consciously touched my scarred cheek, feeling the deep grooves from my first battle as an Auror. That dragon hadn't gone down easily.

"I could say the same for you, Parkinson." I leaned forward, trying to peer past the darkness that hid her face. A dark chuckle rose from the hood. I frowned and settled back into my chair.

"Well, spit it out. Why are you here? I haven't got all day!" A wave of irritation crashed over me, forcing my face into a deep scowl. Pansy laughed, pulling her cloak tighter around her as she copied me.

"I have information you might like to know, Potter. About a certain chain of incidents around London." My eyebrows shot up in surprise.

"...I'm listening."

"Well...I'm not sure...never know who you can trust, you know. And I gained this information from someone very...close. Can you guarantee his safety, Potter, of he is found?" I narrowed my eyes.

"Why should I? If your friend is the one causing trouble..."

Pansy laughed lightly, shaking her head. "Oh, no, no! He's a new recruit - they only brought him in last week! He rather _accidentally _leaked information to me over dinner. I rather couldn't believe that they would go to those lengths - it's incredible."

I silently summoned a quill, readying a sheet of parchment. "Go on. I can promise that he won't be harmed."

Pansy smiled and took a breath.

.

"Careful, now, Thomas. Can't let them know that we're onto them." I glanced over my shoulder irritably. Dean, Ron, and a handful of other Aurors and trainees had spread out through the dimly lit street, each carefully disguised as muggles. Pansy had said that the wizards responsible for the cursed objects were meeting here tonight...there. One, two, three jets of black smoke fell from the night sky, materializing into three wizards of varying height and skin tone. All wore masks - silver masks that covered their faces from the hairline to the middle of the bridge of their nose.

One of them, a tall man with mud-colored hair, rolled his shoulders and strode towards a bench, literally falling onto it. He pulled a slip of paper - paper, not parchment. That in itself was strange for a muggle-hating wizard - from his robe pocket and unfolded it. Something about the message within was evidently funny - he started chuckling, shaking his head. I narrowed my eyes, looking across to Ron.

"I don't like this one bit," I whispered, too quietly to be heard by the three wizards. As I spoke, five additional plumes of smoke fell to the ground, revealing five wizards. "Call in reinforcements, to wait out of sight until things get hairy."

"On it, mate." Ron got up, making a show of stretching like he hadn't moved for forever and a day, and fake-limped away, his hat falling over his eyes. The eight wizards stand in on the sidewalk spun to watch him, but quickly turned back to each other as he turned onto another street to apparate.

I sighed and tugged my own hat lower on my forehead, rubbing at my eyes as the cold air made them smart. The others, four of them, moved subtly to stay near to me as I scooted along the curb. Like with Ron, they all stopped to examine me, and then a tall woman with blond hair dyed a dark, midnight blue laughed and turned away, ignoring me. The others followed her lead.

I blinked, jumping, at the sudden _bang _that filled the night air. Everyone else did, too, and I felt like cursing. Hadn't I already told Ron that using basic apparation was too _loud _for stealth missions?!

I don't know how it happened. I don't know _why _it happened. They didn't know that we were wizards - most wizards dressed rather horribly as muggles. But the next instant, right after Ron apparated away, a brown-haired Auror ten feet down the street was hit with a bolt of green light, Dean screamed as his jacket caught fire, and I barely managed to throw myself out of the way as a Cruciatus curse was thrown my way.

My wand fell out of my sleeve as I jerked my arm, my cold-numbed hand grasping the cherry wood. "_Stupefy!"_

_"Protego!" _The muddy-haired wizard threw up a shield and crouched behind it as my spell broke over it like a wave of translucent red water. I grimaced and raised my wand for another attack.

"_Petrificus totalus!" _My limbs seized up and I fell lifelessly to the cold street at the spell struck me between my shoulders. I glared at the wizard - witch - responsible with reproach.

Pansy Parkinson was still a dirty rotten pig. Or maybe a snake, now, as she was covered head-to-toe in scales, and...wings. A pair of massive, onyx wings hung down her sides, twitching as she stalked forward.

"Well, well...you really _have _changed, Potter, to trust a Slytherin..."

.

_Hermione's PoV_

"What do you mean, I _can't see him_? He's my _friend! _And I'm the reason he's hurt! I want to see that he's okay." I fought the urge to bare my teeth and frighten the healer into stepping aside as he stared me down, hands clasped behind his back. He shook his head again, shifting in a slightly uncomfortable manner.

"Belegeron is hurt badly, lady. He is unfit for any visitors."

I snarled that time, ears laying flat on my head. The healer took a fast step back, face betraying fear, as if he had suddenly realized who, exactly, he was talking to. Not everyone ticks off a warg and lives to tell the tale, after all.

"Now, you listen here, elf-o! I am his friend, and I-" a familiar voice cut me off, calmly demanding the healer's attention.

"Let the Lady Hermione see her friend. I command it." Thranduil had somehow came to stand beside me, not touching but close enough that I could feel the heat rolling off of his arms. He looked vaguely annoyed, glaring at the healer. After the elf had moved, Thranduil looked at me, raising an eyebrow in question, his face betraying no emotion.

"Elf-o?"

I ignored him, instead brushing past the healer and into Belegeron's tent. I smiled as I saw the scribe sitting up in his cot, watching the entrance to the tent anxiously. He grinned at me with clear relief as he attempted to swing his legs over the side of the cot. I couldn't help but beam back as I saw that he was relatively unharmed, with only a short, stitched-up gash on his cheek to show for his bravery in the Battle. Were elves very good healers, to have healed his...his...

His...leg...

My eyes grew wider and wider with each passing second. I had stopped breathing. Horror welled up inside of me. Belegeron smiled sadly as he attempted to stand.

His leg, the one that I had landed on when Azog's warg had thrown me, was gone, replaced by a long metal column about an inch-and-a-half thick and a circular wooden platform that served as a foot.

.

**Well, I finally saw BoFA, and...I was shocked. I read the book, so I knew (SPOILER ALERT) that Thorin, Fíli, and Kíli died, but I held out with a hope that they would survive, because so many people liked them, and then...poof. And Thranduil. Oh. My. Gosh. I felt like reaching through the screen and slapping him half the time! After seeing the movie, I decided that Greyback just wasn't going to give him enough time to change, so...I had to make up a third conflict. Yeah. That bad. And...and don't even get me started on the goats. If you saw the movie, you know what I'm talking about. ****_Where did they come from? Are they like the eagles? Do they just randomly show up _****_exactly when they're needed_****?!**

**Merry Christmas!**


	21. Chapter 21

**Finally! This is a bit of a filler, so it may not be written very well, but it has some Thranduil/Hermione moments! And sorry about the wait - I had a LOT of Christmas parties to attend.**

_Chapter Twenty-One:_

_._

"Courting. Not really something that was on my To-Do list when I got back." I blinked slowly at the small bouquet of wildflowers I had found in front of my tent that morning. They were freshly-picked, and not the slightest bit wilted; whoever had sent them hadn't settled for anything other than perfection. It would have been touching, the whole "secret admirer" thing, if I hadn't immediately been told _who _sent them and _why. _

"Yep, Pup!" Sirius grinned, a mischievous glint in his stormy eyes. "So...when's the wedding?"

"_Sirius! _I don't even think I like him! I should be asking _you _when you and Tauriel are getting hitched!"

Sirius held up a finger, a warning look on his face. "Too far, kiddo. That's actually _love, _if you haven't noticed!"

"She thinks that you're a dog!"

"So?! This King Thrandy knows that _you _turn into a killer wolf thing!"

"Yes, but he _also _knows that I'm human! And I _don't like him!_" Sirius grinned so broadly that I was sure that his face would split.

"Denial isn't just a river in Utah."

"_Egypt!"_

_._

I hadn't known what to make of the gift. The flowers had become overbearingly common, with Sirius - in dog form - acting as a messenger, carrying them to me at least five times a day with a wagging tail and teasing expression. I woke up every sunrise to flowers being shoved in my face, carefully placed one aside as I ate, then again at lunch, and dinner, and then sunset. They were actually becoming a bit...pleasant. I hated that I felt that way, but I found myself smiling as each one was dropped beside me. But now...

"Exactly how desperate is that elf?" The words were near-silent, barely a breath of wind that escaped my lips, but the massive animal that had been tethered outside of my tent turned its head towards me, snorting. I found myself shaking my head in amazement and backing up as the creature went back to grazing, its reins drooping down its neck and the leather of the saddle creaking slightly.

A...what was it, exactly? It looked like an elk, but...larger. Did it still have the same name if it was larger than a horse? I didn't care at the moment; all I thought about for more than a fleeting second was that Thranduil had given me a giant elk...deer...thing. And I knew it was him! The proof was in the small bundle of flowers that was tucked neatly into the elk's bridle!

I stood stock-still for a moment, and then started forward with a sigh. The elk watched me emotionlessly, though there was a glimmer of intelligence in its eyes, and I noted that it had no horns, making it look like a gigantic doe. I raised a hand and carefully set it on the elk's shoulder. Its fur was coarse, but warm, and I ran my hand along it as I edge to stand next to its head, removing the bouquet from its bridle.

I just stared at the creature for a moment, jaw slack in disbelief, and then shook my head, turning to go back into my tent.

"Hermione?! What exactly happened while I was unconscious?" I smiled, looking over my shoulder. Belegeron stood between the trees in which the elven camp was currently situated, leaning on a crutch. The stump of his leg was painfully obvious, with his prosthetic tucked under his arm. He claimed that it made what remained of his leg ache, but I thought that he just liked showing off the injury. It was literally unheard of for an elf to lose a limb, and one of the few things he took pride in was his leg - or lack thereof - and how he lost it.

"A...courting gift, I think." My smile grew a little as Belegeron's eyes nearly bugged out of his head.

"A courting gift? But that means...that means..." I waited silently, wondering exactly how well he was going to take this.

"_You're courting King Thranduil!"_

Now it was my turn for my eyes to try and escape my head. I shook said head rapidly, nearly falling over my own boot-clad (finally!) feet. "Nonono! Just...no. He is _trying _to court me, and I am not giving in."

"But..." I felt like crying and laughing at the same time. Belegeron, for all his battle-pride, was still the same nervous scribe I had met what seemed like eons ago, even if it had only been a few weeks, and he just couldn't imagine me turning down a _king. _He had on a look that I immediately dubbed the Puppy-Dog Face, his eyes wide and disbelieving, but pleading at the same time. "He wants to court you, 'Mione!"

I sighed and shook my head, smile gone. Belegeron had apparently been spending too much time with Sirius, who I had introduced to him a few days ago, before the gifts started. Where else would he get my nickname from? It simply wasn't in his nature to want to shorten things...unless he was trying to get his way. I could see it in his eyes.

Sweet Merlin, he was helping Thranduil!

"Come on!" He smiled in a convincing way, pointing through the trees to the royal tent. "Just talk to him! And..." A thoughtful look crossed his pale face. "It might be a nice touch to ride the elk there."

I felt trapped. If I ran into the tent, I couldn't lock the entrance like a door, and Belegeron would probably still find a way to get me to talk to the Elvenking...like using his unexpected strength to haul me out of the tent, toss me over his shoulder, and march to his royal highness. Or just put me on the elk and spur it towards the tent. The possibilities were endless and maddeningly possible. The pouting face before me was the face of a master conspirator.

"Fine!" I threw my hands up in the air, stomping a foot on the ground. To its credit, the elk didn't shy away or even jump. It just gazed at me in a slightly patronizing way for a short moment before shifting its attention back to its meal. "I'll go and talk to him! Talk, and nothing more! C'mere, Bambi."

"Bambi?" I scowled and whirled to face Sirius, who had seemingly melted out of the early morning shadows. "Aw, someone found her pet! And here are your flowers, Pup!"

I shoved the flowers away, making sure that they hit the older wizard in the face. "Buzz off, Black. I'm going to talk to him."

"Okay. So I can have your tent, since you'll be sharing with Thrandy?"

"Sirius, it is far too early to be up! I'll thank you kindly not to make me murder you."

I swung onto Bambi's back, clutching the saddle horn for dear life as the animal began to move with no direction whatsoever. The elk had a very narrow back, which was both vastly uncomfortable and unstable, and I found myself hanging sideways from its saddle not even halfway to the large tent that the king occupied.

The guards outside the tent flap were perhaps the most embarrassing part for me. They watched me strangely the entire time that Bambi trotted to the tent, and then as I tried - and failed, I might add - to dismount, with one foot in the stirrup on the left side of the saddle while I slumped to the right, very nearly touching the ground. It came as a relief when, with a _snap, _the stirrup broke off and I fell to the warming ground. Spring was close - I could feel it in my bones. One of the great advantages of being a wolf.

I cursed under my breath as I stood, crossing the small clearing in a few strides. The guards moved to block my way with their pikes.

"State your name and business."

"Hermione Granger. To see-"

"Let her in." Against my will, my heart faltered in my chest at the sound of Thranduil's voice, and then picked up its pace dramatically as the guards removed their pikes and nodded to me as I walked past. I brushed aside the tent flaps and entered.

It was the exact same as when I had had dinner with him after the Battle. There was only one lantern, sitting on a table, which was set with food, except that it was now breakfast. Thranduil stood beside the chair facing the entrance, as if he'd just stood up, and I had to keep from laughing a bit hysterically as I noticed a smudge of what could only be syrup at the corner of his mouth. He smiled, looking a tiny bit relieved as he strode towards me.

"Lady Hermione. To what do I owe the pleasure?" He stopped a few feet from me, thankfully. My heart was already threatening to beat out of my chest as it was.

"I...I found your gifts." Merlin, I hoped my voice wasn't shaking as badly as I thought it was...

Thranduil didn't seem to notice _or _care, however. He took a small step forward. "I hope that they were to your liking? A little bird told me that you like flowers."

Little bird, my foot. More like a little moron either named Sirius or Belegeron. I smiled nervously, trying to summon up the righteous anger I had felt as I rode to the tent. "Yes...they were all very pretty." Oh, Hermione. Why wasn't I telling him off, saying that I had no interest in being courted now, thank you very much, and that I was fed up with gifts, up to and including Bambi. Wait...

Had I actually _named _it?!

"And your most _recent _surprise? I noticed that the horses are not particularly at ease in your presence, given your shapeshifting nature." He smiled softly at me, and I tried to stop the rush of...something that flooded me, making me smile back just a bit more broadly. Had he really noticed that about me?

No! Stop it, Hermione! You didn't come over here to flirt back and forth with a king...

My mouth moved of its own accord. "Thank you very much. Its intelligent, much more than others I've seen."

"Ah...then it is like you."

I stared at him. "Excuse me?"

Thranduil looked slightly nervous now. I had to keep from raising my eyebrows at the strange look it gave him. "It is like you...because it is so much smarter than others of its kind."

I blinked, nodding slowly. "Um...right...I suppose."

Thranduil moved aside, gesturing to the table. "Would you like something to eat, Lady Hermione? It seems to be too early for you to have eaten as of yet."

"Sure." I was silently cursing as I sat down in the unoccupied chair, as Thranduil had reclaimed his own seat. This felt strange. Something was about to happen, I could feel it. Nevertheless, I accepted the apple I was given, and then the pancake - this world had pancakes, apparently, and syrup, too - and I was already half done when he began to speak.

It wasn't a story, like that of Beren and Luthien, or the blatant confession I had been treated to at the refugee camp. It was simply talk, about what was currently happening, how much longer the provisions would last in the warmer weather, and even a few questions about Belegeron. My friend had become famous enough for word of the amputation to have already spread as far as his home in Lothlorien, so it was no surprise that the king he was supposed to obey during his visit knew about the scribe's elvenly unheard of handicap.

"Yes, he's doing okay." I said for the umpteenth time, finishing up my pancakes. "He likes to walk around with crutches instead of his prosthetic, but otherwise, you wouldn't even know he was hurt." Wasn't that the overstatement of the year. Belegeron could still hold a sword, and at least jog, but he couldn't run, fight properly, or even walk without the painfully loud crunch of either his crutches or his prosthetic. He seemed to be fine mentally, though, as he had begun to crack jokes about not losing his hand, as that would apparently "put him out of a job."

"It is amazing, what you and the scribe did. A battle for the legends, to be certain. I would have wished to see it unfold, and not be in the ruins of Dale at the time." I felt much more at ease at this point. Good. No romantic advances in the past half hour. I might be in the clear...

Thranduil and I both reached for an apple at the same time. The same apple, too. He looked up at me, slowly, like I might run away again, and spoke quietly.

"You have beautiful eyes."

No. I was most certainly _not _in the clear.

I froze, trying to understand why I wasn't completely panicking, like last time. Why did I even feel _flattered? _I was just so confused... And _no, _I did _not _like him!

I smiled shakily at him, trying not to show the panic I was feeling. I could have slapped myself for what I said next. "So do you."

For the last five minutes before I left, everything I said could somehow be taken as a flirt. I was blushing beet red as I left, Thranduil having been called to settle a dispute in the camp, and Bambi even seemed amused as I walked to it and hauled myself into the saddle. I hung my head as I heard Sirius singing quietly in the trees above my tent.

"_Thrandy and 'Mione, sitting in a tree, k-i-s-s-i-o..._I misspelled kissing."

I quickly dismounted, tying Bambi to a tree and hurrying inside the cover of my tent. Oh, Merlin. Why was I so flustered?

The answer might as well have presented itself to me on a silver platter. I hadn't planned to court anyone in Middle Earth, but I could deny it now.

I had a crush on King Thranduil of Mirkwood.

.

**Dangit. I had something that I was going to put here, but...I forgot it. I don't know about the rest of you, but it is 1:05 am over here, and I didn't notice it until now.**


	22. Chapter 22

_Chapter Twenty-Two:_

_._

The world east of Mirkwood was enchanting in the starlight, under a full moon. As a warg, I hadn't ever been set on a chase when there was enough light for others to see in. But, as Hermione, the witch who had captured the attention of the Elvenking, it was another story.

The hills sprawled out around me, the short brown stubble of grass painted with a silvery sheen by the moon, the night sky stretching to miles and miles in every direction. The air was wild and free, more so than I ever remembered it being, and I found myself breathing so deeply that my lungs hurt. Far in the distance, I could taste the faint scent of water on the air, although the river itself was little more than a faint blue-white light against the silver-painted fields. It was the most beautiful thing I'd ever seen.

Bambi snorted underneath me. Yes, I had actually taken quite a liking to the enormous elk, and it seemed like I hardly needed to do anything to keep up with it. The saddle stirrup had been fixed during the day as I had wandered around as a warg, it always had a filled feed bag on every morning when I woke, and no matter how dusty its pelt got, it was brushed off completely by the time I had woken up. So I had been happy, albeit reluctantly, to keep the intelligent, furry animal.

I tapped the elk's sides with my heels, gripping the reins as it started forward. The steady clop-clop of its hooves tapping against the semi-frozen ground echoed slightly into the chilly air, and I tapped its sides again, leaning forward. Without hesitation, it sped to a quick trot, bouncing me up and down in the saddle. I braced my hands against the saddlehorn and attempted to sit straight, like I'd seen Thranduil do when on his own elk.

That was the reason behind my moonlit trail ride, after all. Apparently, I looked like a fool when I rode Bambi, and if I really was going to fight against Greyback in the elves' army, then I wanted to at least look intimidating. So far, I had acquired all the ferocity of a kitten. And Sirius had made sure to point that out as I tried to learn to shoot and ride at the same time.

"_Gah!_" I clenched my knees around the elk's sides and pulled back on the reins as hard as I could. Bambi brayed - or whatever sound elk (elks?) make - as she ground to a stop, kicking up clumps of dirt. I have to admit, wargs had better stopping abilities than these heavy-footed Mirkwood beasts. I slumped forward in the saddle, barely avoiding sliding to the ground. This was probably what my father had felt like driving in heavy traffic.

Someone had stepped out in front of me, but wasn't looking towards me. They were turned to look out over the fields, apparently oblivious to the fact that a massive elk and an animagus were standing behind them. I lifted myself up in the stirrups, peering over Bambi's head.

"Um...excuse me!" I forced a bit of command into my tone, looking down to the person. "You need to look before you leap. I nearly ran you over."

"Yes, I noticed. That was a very impressive reaction time."

My eyes flew wide as I saw just _who _I had barely avoided trampling. "T-Thranduil! It's you - I mean...uh...sorry for - you know - all that." The king of Mirkwood turned to face me, and I was shocked to see him actually _smiling. _He looked younger by a decade under the starlight, and for a brief moment I felt the urge to punch him square in the jaw. He looked like Malfoy's better-looking twin brother...did I really just think that?

I sat down awkwardly in the saddle, the reins bunched in my hands. Thranduil had stepped back a few paces, simply looking at me as I felt a blush creeping up my neck. Bambi snorted and pawed the ground, clearly sensing my discomfort. I was certain that there were crickets chirping somewhere in the background.

"Mae govannen, _Narmo."_

My ears perked and swiveled to face Thranduil, and I sat straighter, curiosity already kindled in my veins. "Mae govannen? What does that mean? And Narmo?"

Thranduil chuckled, a gentle light in his eyes as he approached me. I reluctantly let him help me down, the worn boots Belegeron had given me gripping the ground.

"Mae govannen is _well met. _Narmo means _wolf."_

"So...well met, Wolf? You called me a dog?" My ears pinned back against my head, I bared my teeth in challenge. If Thranduil had been a warg himself, I would most likely be fighting him. But, as that was not the case, he smiled softly, although his eyes held a piece of caution.

"You are easy to offend, Narmo. I was greeting you with the title that the soldiers have given you, as you seem to have neglected to introduce yourself."

I opened my mouth, intent on replying, but the words wouldn't come. I tilted my head to one side, taking another breath to speak. Once more, nothing escaped me except for, "Ah."

Bambi stuck close to my side as Thranduil guided me to a long, low-lying rock that was just high enough to sit on without jumping. The stone was cold and damp from melting snow as I sat down carefully, watching the Elvenking out of the corner of my eye.

"Why are-"

"Would you-"

I blinked, ears flattening again at the babbled confusion. I nodded to Thranduil. "You first."

"Nonsense. I was raised with manners, and Naneth always said to let ladies speak first, as they always make more sense than men." Thranduil managed to look completely unfazed as he spoke, and I breathed in.

"Why are you out here so late? I didn't think that you were the type to wander." I watched him as he thought over the question for a moment, his hair seeming soft and shiny in the moonlight - stop it, Hermione!

"Elves do not need much sleep, Lady Hermione. I simply felt like taking a stroll." I decided that I had focused too much on the way his lips moved as he talked, so I looked back up to his. Merlin, they were a beautiful shade of blue...

_Hermione, focus on the conversation!_

"And as I was going to ask you a moment ago," Thranduil continued, smirking as if he knew my train of thought. I really hoped that he didn't. "Would you please walk back to camp with me? A little bird told me that there are wargs roaming the area."

"Oh, really? Well, then: One, why are you out here all alone, and Two, do you remember how many wargs I killed in the _shape of a warg _in the Battle? I _am _a warg!" I bared my teeth for emphasis, growling like my second form. The elf, to his credit, barely flinched.

"It would still be a balm to my heart if you were to stay close to me. I do not want you to be hurt when I could have prevented it." I couldn't help it. My heart melted at that, and I smiled softly.

"...okay, then. I suppose that I've been out here long enough. Let's go." I stood up abruptly, ignoring the hand that was held out to me. Bambi snorted as I climbed into the saddle, and I held back a startled yelp as I felt Thranduil swing onto the elk's back behind me. Immediately, the animal started forward, its gait a bit faster than normal.

The camp appeared a lot sooner than I'd expected. The tents literally rose out of nowhere, the lanterns shining clearly against the night. There were no guards - of course there weren't. There really were no wargs or orcs in the area. I would have scented them otherwise.

"Thank you for seeing me back here, Thranduil, but I really have to go to sleep now." I slid to the ground as Bambi stopped outside of my tent, and froze as the elf-king copied me. I turned cautiously, craning my head slightly to look at him. He didn't look removed at all, and I found myself staying still as, to the second time since I'd met him, he cupped my cheek with his hand. My breathing hitched slightly, and I involuntarily leaned into the contact. Wargs weren't exactly cherished by any race, even orcs.

I squawked in quiet shock as Thranduil leaned down and pressed a short kiss to my lips.

And despite myself, I responded in kind.

.

**Ooooookay...so I actually have no idea how that turned out. This is my first attempt at a romance story, and I'm mostly playing off of other stories I've read. And, by the way...YAY! this pairing is ****_finally _****moving forward!**


	23. Chapter 23

**I have just been plain lazy since the last update. But, here you go!**

_Chapter Twenty-Three:_

_..._

I smiled for the millionth time as I stirred the ration of oatmeal I'd been given. Thranduil sat beside me - as a surprise, he had joined me in my tent for breakfast...along with five guards that currently stood outside of the entrance. Sirius - in dog form - had been about to leave, but when the Elvenking had just walked into the tent with two filled bowls, the animagus had flopped back down onto the ground to watch, a canine grin spread across his face. I glared at him as he barked in amusement, looking back and forth between Thranduil and me. The elf looked confused as he caught my angry gaze.

"Why do you always seem so angry at the dog? If it is bothering you, then I will see to it that it is removed and placed elsewhere." There was nothing but truth in his words, and I shook my head.

"No, he doesn't bother me...most of the time. His name's Sirius, and he has a tendency to stick his nose where it doesn't belong." I swiveled my ears for emphasis, baring my teeth at the shapeshifter. He barked back and wagged his tail carelessly, beating out a rhythm on the tent wall. "And between you and me, I think he likes Tauriel."

Thranduil laughed cheerily, and I once again stopped for a moment. He was changing from the cold elf he once was, as Belegeron had informed me the previous night. He laughed readily now, and was almost always smiling. Just like Mirkwood was losing its darkness and becoming safe once more, Thranduil was becoming an endlessly cheerful king instead of the uncaring ruler he was before the Battle. And I had to admit, he was slowly but surely learning the art of tact - there were no more sudden confessions, though he still seemed a bit smug at having won me over. But if there was one thing I learned from dealing with Ron...it's that smugness can be forced out.

He started to say something as Sirius growled, but never had the chance - a moment later, someone started babbling in elvish outside, and one of the guards pushed the tent flap open.

"King Thranduil, there is a man waiting to speak to you at your tent. He said that it is about the Lady Narmo." Thranduil moved so quickly that I fell over - he stood up and strode outside, leaving me on my own.

"Wait!" He stopped and turned back to look at me. I sat up, trying to look dignified. "This...meeting is about me, right? So I should be allowed to be there!" Before he could object, I joined him in the tent entrance, staring him down. After a long moment, he sighed.

"Very well, _meleth nin, _but I request that you take all precautions." Without pause, I shifted into my warg form. Thranduil smiled a small bit and rested one hand on my shoulder, which came to his eye level. "I believe that I should have expected that. Come - we mustn't keep this visitor waiting."

He started off, heading towards his tent, which was much closer than it had been the previous day. I shook my head at Sirius as he emerged from the tent and trotted after Thranduil, my pawsteps thudding loudly against the thawing earth. I spotted Belegeron sitting against a tree, talking to - _Merlin's beard! _- Dagwen, the healer who had made it very clear after the Battle that she hated my very heart and soul. I barely had time to yelp in surprise before Sirius rammed his head into my leg - the only part of me that he could headbutt - and yapped at me until I moved on. I looked over my shoulder, and Belegeron was watching my retreating form. Dagwen was, too, but she was scowling murderously, and I bared my teeth threateningly.

Thranduil had stopped outside of his tent, waiting for me and Sirius, but when I finally reached him, he went inside, gesturing for me to follow. I ducked through the draped archway and immediately made for a corner, laying down and raising my head to watch the conversation. The first thing I saw was a tall man in a brown leather mask that covered his cheeks and forehead, leaving his jaw exposed. The second thing, Sirius brought to my attention.

The other animagus' snarl made me leap to my feet, which in turn forced everyone else in the tent to stumble - or glide, in one case - back a few steps. My head whipped back and forth, and I narrowed my eyes at the familiar face that was staring at me knowingly.

Greyback had found me.

...

_Luna's PoV_

I knew something was wrong when Ginny appeared on the pathway leading to the door. Wrackspurts - big, angry ones, not the little meek ones that just confused people - swarmed around her head like a storm cloud, and the Nargles in the tomato plants - they liked them, who knew - went wild as she hurried to the door, holding one-year-old James to her side. The child had a wrackspurt or two flying around him, as well, but they were little, and nothing to be concerned with.

"Neville, Ginny's here. She's got the Nargles excited." I didn't smile as I heard Neville trumping down the stairs. He knew what excited Nargles meant, I had told him. They only got like this when someone was worried, like when Stella and Frank Jr were about to be born and Neville was driving himself mad with anxiety. The twins were currently sitting on the rug in the living room that joined with the kitchen, identical shocks of black hair bobbing up and down as they tried to stack the blocks Neville had bought. Stella was blinking slowly as she built, like she could sense the Nargles. I smiled proudly before gliding to the door, face grim again. Ginny was waiting on the other side, and she knocked loudly on the door a moment later.

"Luna, it's Ginny. I brought James." I opened the door slowly, my face effortlessly emotionless. Ginny and I hadn't been particularly friendly lately - not since the wrackspurts had influenced Harry to get Hermione killed and Neville had called him out on it. Nevertheless, she had come here for a reason - and a dire one, too, if she had brought James (she had sworn never to keep her son around the twins for long) - and I wasn't about to chase her away. Neville was waiting for me - he had stopped walking at the foot of the staircase - so I opened the door a bit wider and smiled slightly.

"Come in."

Ginny was cautious, as usual, when she entered my home. I could understand why - other people often claimed that the colorfully painted walls were patchwork, and that the thick carpet was too splattered with paint. It was nothing like the other wizards' homes I'd visited, with their muted colors and respectful auras. Those had been laden with traces of wrackspurts, though. They _hated _bright colors.

"It's a...lovely home, Luna. And...your entire family lives here?" Ginny was hugging James closer to her side as she wandered deeper into the house. I smiled proudly as my own children, having abandoned their blocks, ran past me, Neville, and Ginny, dashing up the stairs with resounding laughter.

"Yes. Stella and Frank have never seen a wrackspurt before now, I'm glad to say. Tea?" I walked past her, taking Neville's hand and walking with him to the living room. The spring-green walls and yellow-painted carpets blared out at me like a reassurance of my claim.

"Yes, please. And...why have they...seen them now?" I could read my former friend's tone like a book. She thought I was crazy.

"You have a whole swarm of them around you and your son. Hello, James!" James giggled and waved boldly at me, his own hair, just like Harry's, combed back except for a tuft that stuck up from the back of his head. Ginny just looked irritated as she followed me into the kitchen.

"Listen - I don't particularly _care _for all of this just now. So shut up about the wrackspurts!" I scowled, the pleasant smile dropping from my face. Ginny continued, unfazed. "Harry is _missing! _The Ministry won't admit it, but he went on a job and never came back. Ron...I can't find him- either. Or Dean Thomas. I tried to contact _half of the Auror department, _and hardly anyone was there. I...I was going to look for them."

I stood up taller, turning to face the Gryffindor. "Ginerva Weasley! I can't believe that you would actually say that. What about James?! He's practically a Harry look-a-like. You would be caught in an instant." She took a step back, but maintained her cool facade.

"Which is why I'm here. Luna, Neville, I know that we aren't friends...but I'm asking for a favor. Mother to mother." I raised an eyebrow and crossed my arms. "Please...look after James. I don't really care that I swore never to leave him with your children, but...it has to be better than taking him with me on this...mission. Please, Luna. Just this once."

At some point, my jaw had dropped. I had only ever seen James once, before Frank and Stella were old enough to be different. After that, I had believed that Ginny would never allow him near this house again. But now...

"Don't worry. I will."

Ginny smiled gratefully as she handed her small son to me. "I'll be back. I swear I will. Goodbye, James!"

"Bye, Momma!" James called cheerfully, oblivious to what had happened.

...

**Well, I have come to a crossroads - this story ****_will _****continue after Greyback, but should I write a piece about Mirkwood? I do have a big finale planned out, but does anyone want a break to see how the elives will react?**


	24. Chapter 24

**Yeah...I'll be the second to admit that the last chapter wasn't the best...but maybe this'll make up for it?**

_Chapter Twenty-Four:_

_..._

_I couldn't move beyond baring my teeth, my eyes rolling back and forth in a frenzy. Sirius looked the same, stiffened in a protective crouch before Thranduil, who hadn't moved since he'd taken an alarmed step back, eyes wide and one hand raised as if to summon the guards outside. At first I thought it was blatant shock - how had the werewolf found me? Ever since my first transformation, point-me spells and tracking hexes hadn't stuck to me in the slightest, and if there was one thing I knew, it was that Greyback relied heavily on magic for every aspect of his life...including forced non-full moon transformations._

_That was what I witnessed now. His face looked like it started to change into that of a dog's, but stopped before it was fully canine. My muscles bunched in preparation to spring - pure instinct from my warg self - but even as Greyback came closer, I couldn't make myself spring. Sirius snarled as the former Death Eater reached out and patted me on the head, a self-impressed grin (more of a grimace, really) on his face, but my friend didn't jump forward, even if his flank twitched with the movement of his muscles. Thranduil's eyes had gone from shocked to furious, and I heard a muted hum coming from his throat, like he meant to call for help without opening his mouth._

_I was trying to at least pull back to stand with him when j realized what had happened - we were all under a body-bind spell._

_..._

The wagon was dark, with a thick tarp cast over the frame. My muzzle and paws were weighed down with chains and shackles, and I could just barely see Thranduil and Sirius thrown into an unceremonious pile near the back of the wagon. Of course they had been taken, too - a powerful elf-king who would do anything if they threatened me, and an animagus who had been their clear enemy before his 'death' were just too good to pass up as hostages. But the "_Initium Novum,_" as they called themselves, didn't care if they lost them - they had no business with Mirkwood, and Sirius hadn't done anything so awful to them that they wanted him dead. Greyback, however, apparently had a bone to pick with me...for whatever reason.

I whined, nudging Thranduil's cheek as Sirius struggled to roll onto his side. The elf still hadn't had the body-bind lifted from him, as he was purely human(oid) and couldn't be contained to a four-legged form. He was also out cold - his eyes had gone blank, but a sniff at his wrist proved that he still had a pulse. Chains rattled as Sirius stood unsteadily and stumbled across the rocking floor to me. If I perked my ears - a near-impossible feat at the moment - I could hear the heavy gait of the undoubtedly very strong horses pulling the wagon.

I huffed as my weak legs gave out and I flopped to the ground, curling around Thranduil so that he was completely obscured by my white fur. Sirius didn't make it that far - he fell to the wooden planks a foot away, his head falling at an uncomfortable angle.

...

_Stunning charms flew left and right as the team of six Initium Novum - as Greyback had called them in a short pep talk - burst out of the tent with Sirius, Thranduil, and myself racing behind them due to three hovering charms. The guards that had been on high alert ever since my snarl fell motionless to the ground, their weapons clattering away and falling apart as the other three Initium shot repeated "Bombarda"s at them. Thranduil's head bounced off of a tree with a loud _crack _and he reeled into me, the panic in his eyes replaced by blankness._

_A yelp came out through my nose as the Initium that carried me slung me deliberately into a tent, my momentum flipping it over, furniture and all. My left flank ached like I had taken a mace to my shoulder, courtesy of Bolg (darned orc, I still didn't know if my former master's son was dead). I immediately caught a facefull of branches, the brittle twigs raking through my fur like needles. I swerved in midair in the midst of the group, trying to focus my magic. It was still there, if a bit weakened, and if I concentrates very hard, then maybe I could break the body-bind spell._

_As if._

_Despite my struggles, the Initium reached their waiting wagon with no difficulty, not letting me see anything but the total darkness that waited for me under the brown tarp. They threw me onto the rough wooden planks, one of them leaping in behind me with several feet of chains held in the air with a spell. For some reason, how the kidnapping was conducted irritated me more than the actual act. In my seven years away from Earth, I had forgotten how much magic my kind used on a day-to-day basis to the point that it sickened me. I hadn't used any since I'd come here beyond brief Legilimency!_

_I wished I could move as the heavy cuffs and muzzle magically attached themselves to me, the chains following suit and melding themselves to the shallow walls of the wagon. Sirius thudded into the wagon-bed first, shortly followed by Thranduil._

_A whip cracked somewhere outside and we were on our way...to where, I didn't know._

_..._

I didn't go to sleep. How could I, when I was literally surrounded by enemies? I snarled quietly and beat my tail against the floor. My sense were sharpening again after having been dulled by my less-than-gentle handling, and the clop of the horses' hooves was replaced by something else that made my blood run cold. The heavy, plodding pawsteps of wargs, wild wargs, could be heard on all sides. Two were even racing behind the wagon, their panting painfully obvious. Already, Redhorn was trying to resurface, and I tried to shift - no use. The chains I wore were enchanted, and practically buzzing with magic. The same with Sirius, but to a lesser extent. He had resigned himself to life as a muggle. A muggle who could shift into a dog, but a muggle nonetheless.

Thranduil didn't stir the entire time we were in the wagon. He remained still, but very much alive, against my side every mile the wargs and Initium covered. I growled softly as I recognized the scent of the borders.

Gundabad. The gut-twisting stench of the orc-fortress made me growl, my nose having become more accustomed to the smells of the natural world in the past months, and Thranduil stirred slightly, startling me with a muttered phrase in elvish. I craned my head around and nudged his head with a whine, even making Sirius struggle to his paws halfway. This was no good place for an elf. He was probably the first to make it this far alive and, for the most part, uninjured. I raised my head and looked to what I though was thew southeast, whining low in my throat.

_Please let them find us._

...

_Sirius' PoV_

I could see it in Hermione's eyes. For the first time in years, she was giving up. She was honestly going to rely on the elves to get us out of here..._here _being a foul place that _stank _of deceit and evil. As a normal animagus, unlike Hermione, who had acquired her form through spells that were borderline dark, I could smell things like that...and it made me sick. The elves had always been happy whenever they saw me - there were no dogs in their home, and they thought it was a great treat to have one traveling with them - and happiness smelled...pure. Pure and sweet and harmless. This place, however, made me want to bury my nose in a pile of thestral dung to escape its scent.

The wagon slowed down drastically, along with the wargs around it, and I lurched fully to my paws. I wasn't going to sit back and let others fight my battles for me.

The instant one of the wizards opened the back of the wagon, I snarled and sprang, burying my teeth in his shoulder.

...

**Well, I think I have some explaining to do - when I started this fic, I hadn't seen the BoFA. In fact, I hadn't seen it until after I wrote the scene for it. I didn't know about the confrontation on Ravenhill, but...maybe that's for the best. So, for my version to fit, here's the whole story - Azog, along with his new warg, were on their way to Ravenhill during the first assault on Dale when he saw Hermione running towards Erebor. Instead of being outnumbered by the elf, warg, and thirteen dwarves, he stayed on the edge of the Battle, and watched Hermione until he thought that she and Belegeron were weakened enough that he could kill the elf** **and take back his mount. However, he was so focused on this that he forgot about the Durins and, of course, Hermione crushed his head. Therefore, Fíli, Kíli, and Thorin survived, and Kíli shot Bolg from a distance when he saw him. He was injured at the time, though, and doubts the shot was fatal.**

**Also, does anyone else know what Initium Novum means? I thought that it would be a likely name for what Greyback and his men are planning on.**


	25. Chapter 25

**Gah! Too long! I have put this off for TOO LONG!**

_Chapter Twenty-Five:_

_..._

_Sirius' PoV_

I hit the Initium so hard that he fell over, snarling and thrashing around, struggling to get a shot at him. My teeth clashed together on thin air over and over again, the chains that drooped from my form preventing me from moving quickly. I could hear Hermione's startled yelp from the wagon, shortly followed by a furious roar. I ignored her blatantly - let her sit there with elfy! I had been imprisoned in a place eerily similar to this one: Azkaban. And those had been the most miserable twelve years of my life, scratching about in the darkness, dementors floating past and sometimes stopping just outside my cell...their rattling breath assuring me they were there, even if they melted into the endless shadows so perfectly that I never saw them!

No. I wasn't going through that again.

I reared back, dragging the chains with me as I parted my jaws and dove down towards the Initium wizard, aiming for the throat...and a sharp, stinging pain swept through my side. My snarl caught in my throat as the pain just increased, getting to be so great that I stumbled to the side, just disoriented enough for my would-be victim to shove me off.

It wasn't a spell that had hit me, of that I was sure. I knew what a spell-inflicted injury felt like - pain, lots of it, like now, and a faint buzz of magic that helped it to spread. The deep wound on my side didn't feel magical in the least - it just hurt, and...

My nose twitched.

Poison.

My eyes snapped open and I flipped onto my feet, staggering as a fresh wave of pain flooded my being. The Initium Novum had backed away warily - for whatever reason - and I was left looking at the absolute foulest creature in this world. It would have given _Kreacher _a run for his money! Wait - scratch that. Kreacher lost, hands down. This thing looked like a blacksmith shop blew up on him.

It was seven feet tall, easily, with a too-small, squared head and menacing beady eyes. I instinctively shrank away, but my teeth were bared. The...thing raised its rusted sword, displaying the rows of jagged metal that were embedded in its sickly, bumpy hide, and I leaped out of the way just in time as it came crashing down. The weapon was already stained red with blood - _my _blood. That was what had hit me. And, sure enough, it was poisoned. I could just barely catch the unwholesome scent that rolled off of the metal, a bloodcurdling stench that made me want to vomit, change back to human form to escape it, and vomit again. The same smell - but less of it - clung to my wound, making me light headed from the pain and blood loss.

_"Sirius!" _I glanced at the wagon out of the corner of my eyes as I inched away from the beast. Hermione was standing up, held back by five Initium. I perked one ear to show I was listening - wolfish was hardly her language of choice. This was probably important. _"Sirius, watch out! That's B-"_

Whatever she said next was blotted out as the thing's sword swung at me and I twisted wildly to avoid it. My brain screamed at me as the blade nicked my paw, sending a fresh wash of exaggerated pain up my leg. Hermione had resorted to barking angrily at my attacker, lunging against her holders. There were no words in the cacophony of ripping snarls - at least, none that I could hear. But, as I had figured out from my first fight with them, wargs had several...less than friendly words that only they knew. And they also weren't afraid to throw them at what or whoever ticked them off.

My landing was awkward at best, with my injured leg lifted high off the ground. I might have been able to stand a bit more stably if that was my only wound, but _no - _and not only was I hurt beyond that, but it was on the _same side as my injured leg! _I drooped sideways, stomach churning as I saw my own blood pooling dangerously on the dusty earth.

_I'm far from invincible._

Hermione's barking increased exponentially, and I looked up to see my opponent towering over me, blade raised for the killing blow. I snarled quietly and bared my teeth with quiet, weakened menace.

_But so's he._

That was the last thought that entered my mind before I lunged up at the thing's face, teeth finally finding purchase on the side of his throat. I tried to pull back, taking a piece of flesh with me, but a moment later, the sword collided with my stomach instead of my leg or flank...and everything went black. Pain was all I knew before my mind dropped off into oblivion.

_..._

_Hermione's PoV_

I had felt terror before, and grief. In fact, the latter had almost dominated my life at times. When I thought I couldn't restore my parents' memories, the deaths of several of my friends following the Battle of Hogwarts and preceding it...when Ron and Harry handed me over to be killed. But those had all been weak compared to this - there was always something to be done, a way to distract myself, or so little knowledge that I just knew that things had gone bad. This time...I was being held back by my own kind - my _former _own kind - while one of my only friends was beaten to a pulp by my old master's son.

Bolg. Bolg had survived the Battle, and he was all the nastier for it. New scars laced his skin, some with new metal plates sticking out from them, and the shaft of an arrow stuck out of his ribcage, along with another on his shoulder. One was obviously elven, but the other...I'd seen eleven others just like it in Kíli's quiver when I'd met him just after the Battle. Why couldn't he have been a better shot?! I made a mental note to give a heaping spoonful of Liquid Luck to the next idiot that tried to shoot the remainder of the Gundabad orcs.

Sirius fell down hard and it looked like he would stay there, his own blood clogging the dirt around him. His hind paw - the one that Bolg had nicked - twitched feebly, the blood that trickled from it tainted with black. Orc-poison was strong, but not as strong as my friend - he threw himself at the deformed orc, jaws digging into the side of his neck. It wasn't a fatal wound, though: I had tried the same with Azog in the earliest days of my imprisonment. Instead, Sirius met the rusted blade that the orc wielded, and his limp body was tossed away like trash, ricocheting off of a boulder before he fell to the ground, thrashing briefly as if in unimaginable pain, and then...

He went still. Alarming amounts of his blood had been shed, and it continued to pump out of all of his wounds, especially the new one that curved across his stomach. One of the Initium started forward to collect him, but was stopped by a snarl from Bolg.

"Leave it. The beast deserves its death." The wizard backed away, casting an annoyed glance at Greyback as he went.

"Well, wolf-man? Have you brought the two?"

"Yes." Greyback looked as proud as ever as he strode to the wagon, the orc trailing behind him. "It was almost too easy. The she-wolf softened him. He didn't even have a guard with him!" The werewolf barked a harsh laugh, gray eyes shining with a harsh light. I snarled and pinned my ears back, feeling the heat of unshed tears behind my eyes. It would be relief to shift and let them out. Bolg looked grudgingly impressed.

"Well, then. It seems I underestimated you, Fenrir of England. Hand over the elf, and I will leave you the warg. That was the terms we made our pact on, yes?" Bolg had gotten...smart. Well, smart_er. _It was impossible for an orc to be smart. But he had only spoken Black Speech before now! How much effort had he put into learning English?

I found the answer in the way the words weren't in sync with his mouth. None at all. It was a spell.

_Hand over the elf._

My eyes flew wide as I registered that. Thranduil. They were going to take Thranduil away, and Sirius was already gone - his flank had been unnervingly still for quite a while now. I growled and edge back, crouching protectively over the Elvenking. Bolg just laughed.

"So Redhorn has traded one master for another! I always expected it - I told Father, as well, but he didn't listen. And look where that got him!" I snarled and bared my teeth in anger.

"_I am fully capable of repeating the process, Bolg. I advise you to keep your distance, you-" _I let out a harsh string of wolfish curses, slamming my foot into the wagon bed.

It was useless. Nothing I did could stop them, and I was being led away by Initium on wargs as Thranduil was dragged along the rocky ground by Bolg, a nasty concussion showing itself.

My head lowered until my nose brushed the ground dejectedly. Could this get any worse?

Cue clichéd rainstorm.

...


	26. Chapter 26

**Well, I'm in a bit of a sticky situation. For one, I'm pretty sure that my writing style has changed recently - it tends to do that - and the plot of this story is going to change. However, I can't find very much inspiration for this particular story. It might be a longer time between updates now.**

_Chapter Twenty-Six:_

_..._

Gundabad wasn't a pleasant place to be held captive. In my days as Redhorn, the rough terrain and towering heaps of stone from intentionally made avalanches had been blessings, ways to get the jump on any intruders. I could have easily vaulted over any of them and hidden no more than five feet away from my adversary. Now, bound in chains and being half dragged by five Initium, I was nightmarish. My paws quickly became raw and bloody, with sharp rocks working into the pads with each heavy step. The warg escort - now obviously provided by Bolg - disappeared frequently among my old hiding places, and I found myself cringing as they reappeared close enough to have killed me without a chance for anyone to stop them.

I whined and ground my paws into the ground, looking back over my shoulder, and tried to shift again. No luck. The chains on my muzzle and paws were enchanted with the strongest magic I'd ever felt. In the distance, I could still see Bolg dragging Thranduil to Gundabad, whereas I was headed to...where _was _I being herded? The path was unfamiliar, but the Initium Novum and even the wargs followed it with surety, never even glancing off to the side. The chains attached to my hind paws were suddenly yanked harshly, and I vaulted forward, stumbling as my captors gained a tighter hold on my chains.

I flattened my ears as the boughs of malnourished, half-dead trees spread over my head. I had never paid much attention to the tree graveyard beyond Gundabad, but now I was in it, pine needles littering the entire ground...except for a thin, winding path, which was nothing but pale dust. The wargs sped ahead at this point, barking amongst themselves, and I froze for a moment. I couldn't understand them, aside from the odd word like, "white," "camp," and "food." I was yanked forward again, but this new dilemma didn't leave my mind.

_Why? I've always understood them...even when I just arrived! Maybe...the chains? No, I understood Sirius just fine before..._I gulped and looked down as if avoiding further thoughts. Sirius. He was gone again...and this time I wasn't going to find him on the other side of a Veil. He was probably still alive, though, but barely. Just bleeding out onto the rocks.

Stop right there, Hermione. Don't think about it...don't think about it...

Still, there was resistance in every move I made towards the camp. The thought that the other animagus was still alive, still able to be helped, made me want to turn and run to him, use every last ounce of magic in my body to do _something..._but nevertheless, I was dragged into the camp, and I narrowed my eyes at the sight.

None of the Initium around the campfire were human. With some, it was obvious - the glowing eyes of vampires, he furry, animalistic looks of the werewolves, I even saw a couple of three-foot-tall fairies sitting on a log - but others were harder to pick out. There were even some who were being transformed as they ate their dinner, and only their bloodcurdling scents could prove it. I was led past the group of half breeds and to a...a pen. Great. The gate was opened quickly and I was shunted in with magic, my chains latching onto the wooden posts instead.

I laid down, growling in irritation. This wasn't going to be a fun imprisonment...but when was anything like this enjoyable?

...

_Luna's PoV_

James had been easy to adjust to - he was an imaginative child, and Frank and Stella had taken to him immediately, after the wrackspurt that had accompanied him flew away. The three of them were running around the garden in excitement, chasing little yellow butterflies, as I searched through the bushes for Nargles. Really, they weren't supposed to like roses, I couldn't fathom why they had attached themselves to the red flowers. Of course, it might have had something to do with the curious energy that came from the cave on the other side of the hill a little ways away. I had seen it before, but it had mysteriously vanished in the past month.

Of course, the only way to know for certain was to look into it myself. "Kids! Come on, we're going for a little walk." Stella was by my side almost instantly - it was a gift of hers - with Frank close behind, but James was far slower, and I eventually just went to pick him up and carry him.

I took a deep whiff of the air. Something big was about to happen. I could feel it.

...

**Sorry for the short chapter. I just had to get something out, even just a filler. And now...I have two directions I could go with the cave and Luna. It could be a part of this story, or it could tie this story to another crossover I've been thinking of doing. I personally lean towards the crossover option, but I'm not sure. A warg for your thoughts?**


	27. PLEASE READ!

**I have an announcement to make - this is where the wagon stops. Not the entire story, but this part of it. I have lost inspiration for it, and I'm waiting to see if it's just a passing thing. If I continue writing, then the rest of the story will appear in the sequel, "Wargs and Half-Breeds". If not, I will replace this chapter with an Up For Adoption note. Not the entire White Warg story, but the sequel. On a much happier note, I have sort of almost decided to write Luna into her own crossover of some sort. It probably won't be Hobbit or LotR, because I can't imagine her keeping Frank, Stella, and James alive there, but I'm taking suggestions for what I will be. So far, I've thought of trying Alice in Wonderland (2010), Avatar (the giant blue people, not the Last Airbender), and (maybe) How to Train Your Dragon. If you would like to read any of those, or suggest a story I might use, please PM me or leave a review.**

**Until next time...**


	28. Up For Adoption

**Everyone, I am so happy to have written this for your entertainment. It was a great experience for me, too, but I regret to say that this is the end. This story is officially up for adoption. I have too many stories going, and I have definitely lost my inspiration. Please PM me if you want to adopt it.**


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